


The Beast You've Made of Me

by Jayco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Like really slow build, Minor Violence, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 150,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayco/pseuds/Jayco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Nothing after Prisoner of Askaban happened.</p><p>After years of travelling abroad, Remus Lupin returns to his old post as the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. It's a matter of circumstance and a strange, unexpected chemistry that he and Hermione Granger grow intimately close. Meanwhile, Dumbledore is rebuilding the Order of the Phoenix in response to Voldemort's growing power; Harry, fearing the war, is desperate to follow in his father's footsteps and become an animagus; Sirius, undercover, does all he can to stay close to his loved ones; and something is up with Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first time I've written a fic of this scale, so I hope it's enjoyable. This started off as 90% Remus/Hermione, 10% plot - but as I wrote, it became something more like 50/50.
> 
> Title inspired by Florence & the Machine's 'Howl' - and, obviously, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

The Hogwarts Express let out a long, low whistle and the last of the students swarming around the platform bid their final farewells and scrambled onto the train. It was fast approaching 11am, and any minute now the scarlet engine would be setting off from the station.

Hermione Granger was amongst the last few stragglers to board the Express. This lateness and hesitancy was perhaps a little uncharacteristic of the witch, but Hermione had simply found it so enormously difficult to step onto the train and leave Platform 9 ¾ for the last time she had lingered for as long as she possibly could. She was travelling alone, this time. Harry had arrived earlier in the week to meet with Dumbledore and, naturally, Ron had followed suit, leaving Hermione to board the engine alone.

There had only been one other time Hermione had travelled on the Hogwarts Express by herself – in her second year, when the boys had reached impressive levels of idiocy and taken the Ford Anglia. A small grin found its way onto Hermione’s face as the memory flashed through her mind, but she couldn’t quite shrug away this horrible sadness that’d settled inside of her. This was her seventh year, her final year – a year from now she wouldn’t be boarding this train, but would be working, or pursuing further education someplace else, or doing God knows what. All she was certain of was that she wouldn’t be here.

With a deep breath, and one last look at the platform, she hopped onto the train just as the doors were beginning to close. A few moments later, Hermione felt the movement of the Express setting off from the station.

Hermione realised rather quickly that her hesitation on the platform meant that it’d be very unlikely that she’d enjoy her last journey. It seemed that every carriage was completely full. She supposed that, as usual, some of the Slytherins – and some of the nastier members of the other houses – were hogging as much space as they possibly could. Small crowds of nervous-looking first years had even taken to loitering in the corridors. With a huff of irritation Hermione tried to push past them; she’d intended to spend the hours on the train reading in peace, not sat cross-legged on the floor with a bunch of eleven year olds.

She’d walked the length of the Hogwarts Express before finally peering into the window of the carriage at the very end of the train. Only one person sat there, unmoving – apparently asleep – and with their robes pulled over their head. Hermione sighed. This was the best she was going to get. At least it would be quiet.

As gently as she could she opened the carriage door and entered, closing it behind her, and perched opposite the sleeping figure. The scene was eerily familiar. She glanced upwards, above the man’s head, and saw in the shelving a suitcase labelled ‘R.J. Lupin’. 

Professor Lupin? She’d not seen him since the end of third year. Sirius had said something about him travelling with some werewolf packs abroad, forming alliances where possible, and periodically stopping at Grimmauld Place, though over the last four years she had not once bumped into him. It felt a little awkward, considering the last time they’d seen each other she’d screamed out his terrible secret and he’d almost attacked them in his werewolf form.

Hermione lifted her own suitcase into the shelving above her seat and sat down to rummage aimlessly through her bag. She glanced at Lupin. Should she wake him? He was probably so tired he’d sleep through the whole journey and she could slip out before he woke at all. But if he awoke after unconsciously sharing hours of her company it could be even more uncomfortable than simply waking him now. She bit her lip. She better wake him.

‘Professor?’ she said quietly. No response, though.

‘Professor,’ she said, a little louder. Lupin stirred a little, one hand lazily pulling his robes from his face. He squinted at the girl opposite. Then his eyes widened.

‘Hermione?’ 

He spoke with what sounded like disbelief in his voice and simply stared at her for a few moments before a small smile broke out onto his face. Hermione returned it as warmly as she could, though couldn’t help noting how tired and rundown he looked. She realised it’d been the full moon a couple of days before.

‘It’s nice to see you again, Professor Lupin,’ Hermione breathed, trying to sound like this were the most average of reunions. It wasn’t, though. Technically, the last thing she’d said to him was a howl to pull his attention away from her other self. Not exactly average.

‘It’s, er, nice to see you too, Hermione,’ Lupin said, that little smile still on his lips. ‘And you don’t have to call me that, it feels horribly formal and a little… inappropriate, considering… everything. Remus, please.’

Hermione smiled and tried to ignore the awkwardness that had settled in the air around the two of them. Perhaps only she felt awkward and was just being silly. She broke her gaze from the man opposite and looked down at the bag beside her, pulling out the first book she could find – she didn’t care which it was – and placing it on her lap. Perhaps now she could sit and read for the rest of the journey in relative comfort and Lupin – Remus? – would just go back to sleep. 

But she felt his eyes still on her and she looked up at him again. He had still been smiling, though perhaps she’d accidentally shot him an icy glare because his face immediately dropped. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, shifting to straighten his back and cross his legs. ‘I just can’t get over how much you’ve changed since I last saw you. You must’ve been, what… fifteen?’

‘Fourteen,’ she corrected.

‘And now you’re what, eighteen?’

‘In a couple weeks,’ she smiled. 

‘You look so old.’

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows a little bit. He grinned at her expression.

‘Sorry,’ he chuckled. ‘I just mean you’ve… matured, as all.’

Hermione smiled. ‘I see. You’ve… not really changed all that much, actually.’

This was true. He hadn’t seemed to age at all, though hadn’t exactly looked all that young the last time she saw him. He must only be in his late thirties but for whatever reason – his lycanthropy, stress, trauma, or all of the above – he’d began to grey before his years and had this constant air of weariness about him. His blue eyes glistened youthfully, though. Hermione sometimes saw the same look in Sirius’s eyes, when Harry was in his company. 

‘Still quite the bookworm, I see,’ he seemed to note, nodding at the book in her hands. 

‘Yeah,’ she said, feeling a little self-conscious. 

‘I always was at your age. Still try to be when I can. Haven’t had the opportunity lately, but hopefully I’ll have some extra time on my hands again this year.’ He paused for a moment, before adding, ‘I’ve been given back my old position as the DADA professor.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She figured that he had been given some role at Hogwarts – there’d be no other reason to travel on the Express. But his old job? The reason he’d not remained at Hogwarts in the first place is because Snape had outed him as a werewolf – and she highly doubted that had changed.

Hermione must’ve been thinking loudly enough for Remus to know what thoughts were racing through her mind. He chuckled again, perhaps at the severe look of concentration that had drawn into her features. ‘Well, I say my old position. I’m only permitted to teach those above sixteen and, er, even then those who don’t wish to be in my company are allowed to leave the lesson. The other professors are going to substitute when possible. I think Albus was hoping for a more full time professor, but you know the rumours about the position.’

Hermione hummed in understanding. She wasn’t one for superstition and thought the talk about the cursed Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching role was complete nonsense, but she could understand why people would be avert to it even so. The attacks from You-Know-Who’s followers, perhaps even from he himself, were growing worse and all sorts of dark omens were popping up over the country. Taking up a role that was said to be cursed was a brave thing these days.

‘That means you won’t be doing a whole lot of teaching,’ Hermione pondered, roughly working out his hours. 

‘Professor Dumbledore wants to keep me close. He has some odd jobs for me to do, I’m sure.’

Hermione nodded. She figured from his tone that he wouldn’t be up for saying much more about the subject. Sirius had let slip a few things about rebuilding the Order but it was all rather secret.

Remus sighed. ‘But no, not a lot of teaching. Still, I believe I’m taking your class,’ Remus grinned widely. Hermione couldn’t help but return it – he’d always been the best professor they’d ever had. Since Remus they’d been subjected to torturous lessons from Snape and a mixture of disastrous teachers, some of which had resigned after a couple of weeks. Mostly, they’d just been given page numbers from their textbooks to get through themselves.

They talked for a little while longer before eventually settling into a pleasant silence. Remus seemed avert to falling asleep again, despite looking utterly exhausted, and instead borrowed one of Hermione’s books to flick through, occasionally pausing to stare out the window at the snow-cloaked mountains and the misty fields the engine wound past. 

Hermione caught herself watching the man opposite her a few times, perhaps a little analytically. His light brown hair was really in dire need of a cut and he seemed to be sporting a few new scratches and scars. His robes were as tattered as ever and looked as though he’d done a bad patchwork job on the elbows and knees. Above all that, though, he looked tired. Today was the 1st of September, and if she was correct, the full moon had been the 30th of August. Hermione swallowed the pang of pity that unfurled in her throat. She knew he didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, but it was hard not to.

♦ ♦ ♦

The evening seemed to fall upon them suddenly and Hermione knew they would be reaching Hogwarts soon. Then she realised that she was still wearing her jeans and shirt, and would need to change into her robes.

‘Erm, Professor,’ Hermione began. Remus, who had been staring out at the almost-full moon hanging in the sky, glanced at her.

‘Remus,’ he said, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

‘Remus,’ she breathed, looking down at her bag. ‘Sorry, er, I need to change into my robes. D’you mind… looking away for a second?’

Remus wore an unreadable expression as he nodded and drew his robes back over his face in a very overt manner. Hermione stood and grabbed her suitcase, tugging out the Hogwarts robes and fumbled with the buttons on her top, her back to the man. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She didn’t like this silence. 

‘So, erm, Prof- Remus,’ Hermione started.

‘Mm?’

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ Hermione slipped off her blouse and pulled on her white shirt and Gryffindor jumper, and started on her tie.

‘Of course.’

‘I was just… wondering. What you’ve been doing with yourself the last four years.’

Remus didn’t speak for a moment. Hermione kicked off her trainers and began wriggling out of her jeans, quickly grabbing for her skirt. 

‘I really shouldn’t be telling you, but I suppose there’s no harm in it,’ Remus said, sighing with some great exhaustion she hadn’t yet heard in his voice. ‘After that whole fiasco at Hogwarts I quickly chased down Sirius at Grimmauld Place. We both stayed there a while. Mostly trying to make the damn place liveable, trying to keep Sirius from doing anything stupid, he was rather… heated up about Peter Pettigrew.

'And then Dumbledore contacted me. He figures that, for reasons I’m sure you can fit together yourself, we need as many allies as possible right now. So I spent a few weeks researching and tracking down as many werewolf packs as I could, some in the UK, some abroad… and I stayed with each of them. Months at a time. Building rapports and gaining trust and eventually popping the question.’

‘The question?’ Hermione asked, slipping on her cloak. ‘You can, er, look now, by the way.’

Remus pulled the robes off his face again and smiled at the witch. ‘Will you join me in the fight against The Dark Lord?’ he asked softly, holding out his palm to her. Hermione smirked.

‘No, really, I do need you to help me up. I’m knackered.’ 

‘Oh.’ Hermione took the older man’s hand and helped him up. He winced slightly as he stood, and appeared to be resting more weight on one leg than the other.

‘Just knackered?’ Hermione asked, raising at eyebrow.

‘That’s what happens when you get old, Hermione,’ he said, winking and turning for his suitcase. Hermione turned and gathered all her things, and the two of them headed out the train to the carriages. She cast a look at him. He was walking oddly, seemingly trying to mask a slight limp.

‘How did the packs respond to the question?’ Hermione asked as they stepped off the train, and onto the platform outside Hogwarts. It was almost pitch black now, and a chill hung in the air. In the distance, Hermione could just make out a giant figure waving and bellowing out over the noise of the crowds. She smiled. Hagrid taking all the first years onto the boats across the lake. She would take the carriages – seemingly with Remus, who didn’t seem to have anywhere else to be and didn’t leave her side.

‘Mixed reviews,’ Remus sighed, rubbing his arms and shuddering in the cold. ‘Now, let’s get onto one of those carriages and get into the castle as fast as humanly possible. Bloody freezing.’

♦ ♦ ♦

‘Harry! Ron!’

The two boys were practically ambushed by their bushy-haired friend, who wrapped her arms around their necks and brought them into a tight hug. Ron groaned and tried to pull away, but Hermione only held tighter.

‘Geroff, ‘Mione,’ Ron said, craning his neck as far away from his two friends as possible. Harry only laughed.

‘Hi, Hermione,’ he said, grinning. 

Harry and Ron had already made it to the Great Hall and had settled into some seats waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to begin and, perhaps more notably, the feast. Hermione looked about the hall. On Harry’s other side was Ginny, who Hermione took up a seat next to. Across from them sat Neville, Dean and Seamus, and Luna, who had curiously decided to sit at this table rather than the Ravenclaw one. Hermione also noted Lavender a few seats from Ron and couldn’t help but roll her eyes in contempt.

‘Hiya, Hermione,’ Ginny said with a little wave. ‘You alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ Hermione replied. ‘You?’

‘Mm,’ Ginny hummed, and nodded to the boy beside her. Their fingers were laced under the table.

The Great Hall had reached a high level of excited chatter. Hermione supposed that it was mostly full by now. She glanced across the hall to the Slytherin table and immediately her gaze was caught by a flash of platinum blond hair. Draco Malfoy sat all amongst his little gang, scowling at seemingly nothing. Good to know nobody had really changed.

‘So, Hermione,’ Ron had leaned in and was smirking mischievously. ‘Fun journey here? Whad’ya do, sit by yourself and read?’

Hermione shot him a dirty look. This shouldn’t have been an insult – it’s what she had intended to do, after all – but it still irked her.

‘Actually, I had a conversation with Professor Lupin,’ she replied curtly.

‘Lupin?’ Harry said, suddenly alert. ‘Lupin’s back?’

‘Mm. He’s teaching part time this year. Only the sixth and seventh years, though.’

‘Brilliant!’ Harry exclaimed, leaning backwards to watch the teacher’s table at the front of the hall expectedly. Remus hadn’t yet taken up his seat at the table. Hermione wondered where he was – they’d arrived at the same time, after all.

The group of Gryffindors – and Luna – burst into excited conversation about the return of the professor. Harry practically interrogated Hermione with questions – he’d seen Lupin as some kind of uncle figure and was particularly excited about his arrival. Despite now living with Sirius at Grimmauld Place, he’d not seen him since the summer of the third year – he’d not had the luck to bump into him since.

A sudden silence that fell over the hall signified that the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin. Dumbledore had taken his standing at his podium and was beginning his usual speech. When McGonagall stepped up alongside the wooden stool with the old hat in one hand, and a parchment of names in the other, it was only then that Remus entered the hall from a door closest to the teacher’s table, and took a chair next to Flitwick and Hagrid. His eyes immediately shot to where Hermione was sat and offered a wide smile before doing the same to Harry, who looked as though he were about to explode.

The feast was marvellous as always, and the group took it as an ideal time to catch up. Harry had spent the majority of the summer with Sirius in Grimmauld Place as usual and had spent what sounded like a great deal of time trying to persuade his godfather to teach him to be an animagus.

‘It just makes sense,’ Harry huffed, toying with his food. ‘It’s the ultimate survival tool. It got Sirius out of Azkaban, for God’s sake.’

Ron and Ginny had been at the Burrow. It’d been mostly quiet, since Percy was snowed under at the ministry, Charlie was still off in Romania, Bill in Egypt and the Weasley twins were channelling all their time and energy into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The last week they had spent at Grimmauld Place, the three of them leaving to Hogwarts a few days early at Dumbledore’s summoning. Neither Ginny nor Ron knew about Dumbledore’s meeting with Harry as of yet; Harry had promised to tell them all as a group in privacy.

Hermione had spent the summer reading and pondering what she’d do once her years at Hogwarts had finished. She slightly resented her friends for not sending her an owl asking to join them at Grimmauld and then Hogwarts, but she tried to shrug it off. She didn’t want this year to start off with an argument.

The feast finished, and everyone was keen to get to their dorms to unpack and get a good sleep before lessons began the next day. Ron was moaning unintelligibly about being too full and staggered off to the Gryffindor common room with his sister. Harry and Hermione elected to stay behind to greet Remus and Hagrid, who were chatting when they hurried over. 

‘‘Allo, ‘Ermione!’ Hagrid bellowed, standing and pulling her into an enormous hug. Remus gathered himself to his feet when Harry approached, brushing himself off and taking the boy into his arms for a short hug. Harry looked incredibly content.

Hermione talked to Hagrid pleasantly about the summer and the year to come while Remus and Harry wondered off from the group slightly to discuss something in hushed tones. Hermione couldn’t help but continuously glance over to try and read Remus’s face. He looked a lot more serious than before. She supposed they were discussing Dumbledore’s meeting.

‘…And I’ll be taking yer all again for Care of Magical Creatures, though’ we’d start with some o’ the things in the lake this time, an’ you’ll never guess what, Dumbledore’s only gone and given me the go ahead to take you lot into the Forbidden Forest, only the outskirts mind you…’

Hermione’s concentration snapped back to what Hagrid was saying. She continued to nod and smile politely and say ‘yes’ and ‘hmm’ in all the right places before he was saying good night and trotting off to his hut, waving at Harry as he did so. Harry was still engaged in some heavy discussion with Remus, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little irritated she was just being left aside. She was a little tired of all this secrecy surrounding Harry, though she trusted him and Dumbledore enough to know it was for the best. Even so, it was still annoying.

He and Remus finished up their conversation and shook hands warmly before parting ways. Remus shot a glance at Hermione and smiled, nodding what she assumed was a good night. 

‘What was all that about?’ She asked Harry curiously, once they were alone.

‘Oh, nothing to worry about. Sirius is just on the firewhiskey again, we’re both worried about him.’

Hermione scowled. ‘Don’t avoid the question, Harry.’

Harry’s face was the picture of innocence. ‘No, really, Hermione. When he drinks too much he transforms into Padfoot and roams around London pissing on Muggles. It’s practically weekly now. It’s a problem.’

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t getting anything out of him, not tonight. It must be important if Harry’s keeping it to himself – she decided to drop it for now.

The two walked the corridors which were now practically empty after their discussions with their professors. After a narrow escape from Peeves – who had taken to throwing eggs at first years – they approached the moving staircase.

‘Did you see Malfoy?’ Harry asked suddenly as they took to the first flight of stairs.

‘What d’you mean?’ Hermione asked. ‘I saw him at the Slytherin table. Same old miserable git. Why?’

‘He seemed a bit… off,’ Harry muttered. The two hopped onto the second flight, which was moving unnervingly quickly and made Hermione’s stomach flip a little.

‘Off? He looked the same to me. Just angry and… pale.’ 

Harry barked out a laugh – he was starting to sound so utterly like his godfather – but seemed to be in some kind of deep thought. 

‘No, no. Something was different. Usually he sits there talking to his stupid little mates…’ Harry’s voice was filled with a nasty bitterness, a kind of venom only reserved for when he talked about Malfoy. ‘He just sat there scowling. Not talking to anyone. I’m gonna keep an eye on him. He might be plotting to kill me.’

Hermione sighed. ‘It isn’t all about you, Harry.’

‘Isn’t it?’

The two chuckled to themselves before approaching the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady portrait looked at the two of them with a look of utter boredom as they stared blankly at her.

‘Shit, what’s the password?’ Harry asked. Hermione shrugged.

‘Hermione!’ 

Harry and Hermione looked round to see their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor starting towards them, seemingly struggling with the moving staircase and with whatever was wrong with his leg. He half-hobbled the rest of the stairs and let out a huge sigh as he reached them.

‘Sorry Hermione, I managed to nick your book by accident,’ he said breathlessly, handing over the old tome. 

‘You didn’t have to come up all the way here,’ Hermione said, glancing at what she guessed was his bad leg nervously. Remus reddened a little.

‘Oh, it’s fine, no trouble, I wanted to,’ he said reassuringly, smiling and straightening his back. He glanced back at the staircase wearily. ‘Downstairs is always easier. I’ll see you two in lesson, I suppose. And, oh, the password is ‘Guinea Pig’.’

With that, the Fat Lady opened the door to the common room a bit irritably. 

‘Cheers,’ Harry said. ‘See you.’

‘Thanks, Remus. Night,’ Hermione said, smiling.

Remus nodded and headed off back down the stairs. Hermione watched him for a moment before the Fat Lady coughed, and Harry tugged at her sleeve to urge her inside.

‘Remus, is it?’ Harry said, sounding amused. 

‘He told me to call him that,’ Hermione huffed.


	2. The First Lesson

Hermione awoke feeling rather joyous that lessons were starting up again. Even better, Defence Against the Dark Arts would be her first lesson. The first decent DADA lesson she’d had in a long time, she thought, rubbing her eyes and stretching out her limbs. She always slept well at Hogwarts.

Breakfast was pleasant enough. The main topic of conversation was that Harry had promised to tell Hermione, Ron and Ginny about his meeting with Dumbledore and everything else he knew. It would be in the common room that evening, preferably once everyone else had gone to bed. Meanwhile, he was scribbling a lengthy letter to Sirius, which briefly discussed Remus’s return but mostly consisted of a list of reasons Sirius should teach Harry to be an animagus. 

‘Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you already,’ Hermione said matter-of-factly. ‘He’s so irresponsible I’d have thought he’d have loved the idea of breaking the law for a laugh again.’

‘I know, right?’ Harry replied, raising an eyebrow at her. He folded up his letter and tied it up to Hedwig, who fluttered away in a flurry of white. He was able to use Hedwig again – for a while he had needed to use less conspicuous owls, but since Sirius had laid low and kept out of trouble, the ministry assumed he’d fled the country and stopped trying to track him. 

♦ ♦ ♦

‘Good morning, everyone,’ Remus beamed, gazing around the class. ‘Sorry to have you all up so early. I thought we’d start with a practical to wake everybody up.’ 

Every single Gryffindor was buzzing with excitement at having their old professor back. Even the Slytherins, who were being taught alongside Gryffindor, were visibly pleased. To Hermione’s surprise, even Draco’s gang weren’t unhappy – only Draco himself sulked, picking at his impeccable nails and glaring at the floor. 

‘It’s so wonderful to see all of you again,’ Remus continued. ‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve not had much luck with a teacher since I left. But hopefully that’ll change, now. This year will focus on duelling and self-defence, particularly complex shields and wards to defend against the more advanced, dangerous spells. Alongside your practical studies of these defences you’ll be studying said spells – on paper, of course.

‘Right. A quick demonstration of a basic shield charm to warm up, and you’ll pair up to practise. Hermione?’

Hermione blinked in surprise and simply looked at Remus before he encouraged her to approach him. She stood from her seat, dropping her quill and walking to the front of the class, feeling a strange nervousness in her gut. She didn’t mind answering questions and being the centre of attention when she had the answer. She just never really liked this sort of pressure.

‘Right, Hermione,’ Remus strolled over to where Hermione had chosen to awkwardly stand and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders, guiding her a few paces away. He then took about six paces away from her, and adopted a defensive stance.

‘I want you to throw all you’ve got at me,’ he said. She couldn’t help but feel her face heat up. She put one leg forward, her feet firmly on the ground and her weight distributed.

‘Steleus!’ she cried, a small burst of light whizzing from her wand. Remus shielded it almost effortlessly, and started to laugh along with the class.

‘A sneezing spell?’ He laughed, a brilliant smile taking over his face. ‘Is that your ‘all’, Hermione? That’s almost insulting.’

Hermione bit down the urge to mirror his grin. ‘Alright. You asked for it.’

She ignored the amused smirk on his face as he readopted his stance, wand drawn. She thought for a moment, and when silence settled over the classroom, she struck.

‘Bombarda!’

With that a fiery light exploded from her wand and in a second Remus drew his wand across his person and barked ‘Protego!’ Her spell met his shield in a great explosion of white and orange and Remus stumbled back only slightly, squinting past the light. A few people in the class groaned and grumbled at the blinding explosion. Remus brushed off his old robes and smiled at Hermione, a look of great approval on his face.

‘Very impressive explosion spell there, Hermione,’ he breathed. ‘Okay, everyone stand and pair up, please.’

As everyone stood from their seats Remus moved the desks to the walls of the room to clear a space for everyone to practise. To Hermione’s irritation, Harry and Ron had already wondered off to the other side of the room together, shouting mock threats and looking like excited little kids. Dean had paired with Seamus – naturally – and Lavender with Parvati. Even Neville had found a partner. 

Her eyes met Draco’s, who seemed to be in a similar situation. Crabbe and Goyle had paired up, and Zabini with Pansy. The two of them stood aimlessly as the remaining members of the class paired together. Hermione inwardly groaned before pacing towards the blond boy, who looked utterly furious.

‘Draco?’ She said, trying to sound as civil as possible. Draco looked as though he were about to object, but seemed to realise he didn’t have a whole lot of choice and just shrugged in silent agreement. The two wondered off into an empty part of the room and began to duel.

‘Do you want to attack or defend first?’ She asked. He just shrugged, not looking at her.

Hermione sighed. ‘I’ll defend first, if you like.’ She figured she’d let him start off with the easy role.

He didn’t respond, just looking at her irritably as she adopted her defence stance. He lazily shot a number of spells her way – she easily deflected all of them. In fact, she hardly needed to concentrate. Draco was clearly so disinterested with the activity he wasn’t trying, throwing weak hexes and almost laughable jinxes. While she continued to throw up shields, she gazed around the room. Harry and Ron were easily the loudest and most active in the room, their own corner alive with all kinds of exploding spells and pointlessly elaborate defences. On the quieter side of the room, Remus was helping Neville perfect his shield charm.

Hermione hardly noticed that Draco had stopped and was waiting for Hermione to swap roles. 

‘Granger,’ he drawled, ‘when you’re done drooling over Longbottom, or whatever…’

‘Oh, sorry,’ she muttered. She began to throw a few weak spells before gradually increasing the severity of each, building Draco up a challenge.

But something was clearly off with him, as Harry had said the day before. He’d always been a powerful wizard and usually found lessons such as this almost offensively easy, but he was overwhelmed by a hex that threw him off his feet and caused him to crash into the ground. Hermione gasped and began to jog over to the boy to help him up, but he’d already started to his feet and was dusting off his trousers. 

‘For fucks sake, Granger,’ he spat, glaring at her. ‘What the fuck was that?’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think…’

Draco was red and seemed to be boiling with anger. He breathed in deeply and shot her an icy look. ‘This is wasting my time, anyway. Tell the werewolf I won’t be attending his classes anymore.’ 

Hermione bit down the urge to scream at the Slytherin as he sauntered out of the room, using his wand to slam the door behind him. The conflict had caught the attention of some of the people in the room, including Remus, who approached Hermione and looked at the door, puzzled.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows at the witch. 

She shrugged. ‘He didn’t shield one of my spells and got angry and walked out. He, er, said he wouldn’t be coming back to these lessons.’

Remus sighed. ‘I should’ve expected this. He was probably just waiting for a good excuse to leave my lesson. Not your fault, Hermione.’

Hermione felt a pang of guilt somewhere in her chest. Remus didn’t particularly like Draco – no teacher did, with the exception of Snape – but she knew he was sensitive to this sort of thing. She desperately wanted to tell him it wasn’t because Remus was a werewolf or a bad teacher or whatever he was blaming himself for, and Draco had left just because he’s a miserable twat, but that probably wouldn’t have been the most appropriate thing to say. She kept quiet and simply offered a sympathetic look.

‘Anyway,’ he breathed, looking from the door to Hermione. ‘Looks like you’re a partner down.’

‘Mm.’ 

‘How about I test your shield?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘I noticed Draco wasn’t especially challenging.’

‘Er, alright,’ she said, a familiar nervousness building up in her chest. She took a few paces backwards, as did her professor, and took position.

Hermione and Remus made a good team. Hermione enjoyed being challenged by an expert – she found her shield faltering a few times against his powerful spells, and quickly found herself breathless and exhausted. After a dozen or so shields she motioned for him to stop as she stretched her back, breathing deeply.

‘Out of breath?’ he asked, joining her side. 

‘Just a moment.’

He watched her for a second, thinking. Once she had somewhat caught her breath, he stepped behind her.

‘I think the problem is that your defence stance – while impressive – is a little… clinical,’ he muttered, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘Put a foot forward… feet firm on the ground, that’s it… now keep your back straight, but relaxed. You’re getting worn out too quickly because your shield is harder to raise with your posture. It’s textbook, but for it to be more effective, it needs to be a little more… natural. You need to wear it in.’

He reached around her to lightly grip her forearms and position her in what he promised was a more effective stance. Hermione felt his chest press against her back lightly, and couldn’t help but breathe in whatever scent he was wearing.

‘That’s it. You need to relax a bit more, that’s the issue, you were far too stiff.’

Hermione was almost perfectly relaxed until she saw Ron and Harry looking at her from the other side of the room, both with eyebrows raised to the ceiling. Harry looked more amused than Ron. Ron just looked confused.

‘Ah, you’ve tensed again,’ she heard Remus mutter. And with that, he drew away from her, gazing at her sceptically. ‘You’ll have to work on that. But aside from that, your shield is incredibly impressive. Well done, Hermione.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said quietly, still aware of her two friends watching her from the other side of the room. 

Remus looked as though he were about to correct her again, but followed her gaze to the boys on the other side of the room. ‘Looks as though people are getting bored,’ he said, grinning at her and striding towards the front of the classroom, shouting over the spells for the class to stop and pay attention. Hermione just stood, feeling a little dazed.

♦ ♦ ♦

Hermione had spent the majority of her evening in her dormitory, reading on her bed with Crookshanks curled up at her side. She stroked him lazily before realising the common room would be mostly empty by now. She pulled on a jumper before heading down to meet her friends, muttering to Crookshanks that she’d be back later. He blinked at her before dozing off.

Ginny and Harry had already settled on a couch in the quietest corner of the room near the crackling fire. Ron sat cross-legged on the floor opposite them. They appeared to be waiting for Hermione.

‘Sorry,’ she said, sitting aside Ron opposite Ginny. The redheaded girl winked at her before turning all her attention towards Harry, who looked as though he were racking his brains.

‘I don’t know where to start, really,’ he sighed.

‘The beginning?’ Ron offered. 

Harry bit his lip. ‘Basically, when sixth year ended and summer began. Sirius was being a bit funny… he’s bloody awful at keeping secrets. Eventually it all sort of… came clear. He sat me down one day and, er, asked me if I was having any bad dreams or if my scar hurt at all or whatever.’

Harry paused, looking uncomfortable.

‘And?’ Ginny asked, her hand resting on Harry’s arm.

‘Well, yeah, I had. He knew I had, he’d heard me have nightmares and he’d seen me rub my scar and stuff. He just wanted the details. What the dreams were about and how often my scar hurt, and how much, and stuff.’

‘I didn’t know all that was happening,’ Ron breathed. ‘How’d you hide the nightmares from me?’

‘I’ve been taking some potions to repress the pain and the nightmares,’ Harry muttered. He rolled his eyes at the looks of shock and concern that drew across his friend’s faces. ‘Nothing bad. Just some herbal stuff Madam Pomfrey brewed for me. But as soon as I went back to Grimmauld Place I couldn’t take the potions anymore and Sirius noticed everything and he got nervous. He contacted Dumbledore who came round the next day and I had to tell him everything. But first I asked him to tell me everything too. And basically, he thinks Voldemort is coming back. Building allies.’

‘That’s not news,’ Ron said, looking bemused. ‘All the attacks and stuff in the papers. It’s what happened the first time round. Everyone sort of thinks he’s coming back. Except the Ministry.’

‘It’s a bit more than ‘sort of thinks’, Ron,’ Harry said, rubbing his temples. ‘Dumbledore doesn’t think Voldemort can fully regain power until he has me. There’s some ritual or special potion or something that Voldemort needs me for to get back his body. Because unless he’s found some other way, he’s still too weak to do anything himself. But Dumbledore thinks he has followers,’ he said darkly. ‘Pettigrew, probably, and all the old ones from before, and new ones. Dumbledore thinks he’s doing what we’re doing and building up armies of allies.’

‘That’s what Remus has been doing,’ Hermione muttered. ‘Travelling with werewolf packs all over the world, trying to gain their support.’

‘‘Remus’’? Ron repeated, furrowing his eyebrows. Hermione ignored him, turning back to Harry.

‘He thinks there’s going to be a war again. Once Voldemort gets his body and enough followers. So Dumbledore’s doing the same. They’re rebuilding the Order of the Phoenix.’

They fell into a short silence. They all knew what the Order was, through Sirius and some of the older Weasleys.

‘When I’m eighteen I’ll be able to join, apparently,’ Harry muttered. ‘But that’s all I know. All they’ve told me.’

‘I turn eighteen in a few weeks,’ Hermione said. ‘Can I join then?’

‘Doubt it,’ Harry shrugged. ‘They’re being funny about it. It’ll probably all happen after school’s ended. If we live that long,’ he grimaced.

‘That’s not funny, Harry,’ Ginny whispered.

‘Sorry,’ he said, placing his hand on hers. Ron looked mildly uncomfortable and coughed.

‘I’m going to go to bed, I think,’ Harry said, stepping up from the couch and running his hands through his wild hair. ‘You coming, Ron?’

‘Yeah,’ Ron grunted, following suit as Harry strode out towards the boys’ dormitories. Ginny and Hermione watched them until they disappeared up the spiralling staircase. Hermione moved from the floor onto the couch next to Ginny, who looked pale and uneasy. Hermione knew the feeling.

‘D’you want to talk about it?’ Hermione said cautiously, hoping Ginny would say no. Hermione certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

‘No, no, I’m okay,’ Ginny sighed. She looked at Hermione and forced a brave look. ‘I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just go to sleep too, actually, if that’s alright with you.’

‘Mm, of course,’ Hermione said, offering a weak smile. She patted Ginny’s shoulder lightly before the redhead stood up from the couch and headed out of the common room. It was empty now, apart from Hermione herself. Usually she revelled in the peace and quiet. It just felt deathly silent now.


	3. Birthday

It was the first weekend of the year and it was welcomed with open arms by every student. Even Hermione, who was often at her absolute happiest in lesson, felt exhausted after her first week. She was already snowed under with homework and she was struggling to put what Harry had told them out of her mind. She could only imagine how he felt.

Harry and Ron had decided to mess around in the common room and the Great Hall for the majority of their Saturday, doing precisely nothing productive. Even Ginny had elected to spend the day with Luna roaming the grounds, enjoying leisurely nothingness. But Hermione wasn’t very good at enjoying nothingness. It just made her fidgety and really annoying to other people.

After lunchtime at noon she took a great bag full of books, parchment and quills to the library. The library was possibly her favourite place in the whole of the school – she certainly spent a great deal of time in there. And in the library was her favourite place to sit, in the corner by a window overlooking the grounds. 

She wasn’t sure how many hours had passed by the time she’d completed all her homework, but by the time she looked up out the window, it was considerably darker than she remembered and it was beginning to rain. She sighed. She ached a little bit from being bent over her books and parchment for hours, but the sound of the rain against the window was soothing.

She gathered all her things into her bag and contemplated what she’d do for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t very late and since the discussion in the common room, it felt unappealing to go back there. She looked around. The library was empty, save for the librarian and a few Ravenclaws sat at some tables. It seemed a shame to leave now, while the atmosphere was just as she liked it.

She decided to look for a good book to get stuck into to pass the time. She stood, leaving her things on her chair so nobody would take her favourite spot, and began to pace the shelves. 

She was running her finger along the spines of the tomes in the Anthropology section when a voice startled her.

‘Anything caught your eye?’

Hermione jumped and looked behind her, to see Remus perched on a desk. 

She blinked at him. She'd had no idea he was there. ‘Nothing yet,’ she said. ‘Read half of these in my third year, when I was… er…’

Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to say she’d read most of the books about other magic cultures and societies around the world hoping to dig up more information about werewolves. When she was researching the man that sat opposite her now.

It didn’t matter – he appeared to be able to read minds. ‘When you were researching me?’ he offered, smirking.

‘It was an interesting subject matter,’ Hermione mumbled. Remus just looked at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite make out. And then he finally spoke.

‘If that’s so,’ he began, biting his lip, ‘you’re free to browse my collection of books in my office. It’s not all werewolf stuff. Just if you’re struggling to find something you haven’t read here.’

‘Now?’ she asked. 

He chuckled. ‘Or tomorrow. Or whenever. I’m not as busy as I thought I’d be and I’m getting anxious with all this free time. I’m not used to it.’

‘I know the feeling,’ she hummed. ‘Well, I don’t have anything to do right now, if that’s alright.’

‘Of course.’

Hermione nodded and went to grab her things from her chair. Remus followed idly, and the two strolled out and headed to his rooms.

She couldn’t help but notice he wore the same jumper every time she saw him. It was clearly quite old and incredibly worn, holes at the elbows and near the hem. He’d stuffed his hands in his jeans and was walking at a fast pace. He looked better, today, not quite as tired. He’d had a week or so to recover from the last full moon and the next was a way away yet.

When they approached his rooms Remus drew his wand and tapped a short rhythm on the door and it creaked open.

‘Tea?’ Remus asked, summoning a tray holding a pot regardless.

‘Yes, please.’

As Remus poured out two cups Hermione found herself pacing his office. It was surprisingly large, though a little bare. She supposed that he hadn’t completely unpacked yet. It was a circular room, his desk along one side which was covered in books and parchment, everything a little messy and skewwhiff. He had a few empty cabinets, cupboards, and a couple of trunks which she supposed were empty too. The only thing that was filled to the brim was a large bookshelf which took up a great deal of the wall. She immediately started for it. To her great pleasure, she hadn’t read any of the volumes. Some were clearly werewolf themed – they seemed to take up the bottom shelf and were mostly tattered and worn. The others, however, covered a broad range of subjects, from muggle culture, art, ancient artefacts, history…

Remus cleared his throat and Hermione looked round. ‘Sorry,’ she grinned. ‘I’m getting a little excited. Haven’t read any of these.’

‘Glad to have been of assistance,’ he smiled, nodding to the cup of tea in front of him. She curled up in the chair opposite and carefully picked up the mug. It was a bit chipped.

They talked about nothing of importance for a while, but it was pleasant somehow. Hermione felt that he relaxed her a great deal. She had a tendency to be high strung and Harry and Ron only brought that out of her. Remus had the opposite effect; he was greatly calming, perhaps because he seemed so calm himself. Hermione thought it was odd that, somewhere inside of him, a raging animal was there too.

‘Have you practised what I asked?’ he suddenly said.

‘What?’

‘Your defensive stance. I recall it being far too rigid, like you’d read it straight from a book. Not a bad thing, of course, but you know.’

‘Oh,’ she pondered. ‘No, I haven’t, I’m afraid.’

‘D’you want to practice a bit now? I’ll shoot a few milder spells at you, don’t want to break anything…’ he looked around the room. ‘Not that there’s a whole lot to break.’

Before Hermione had time to agree he’d already stood and was watching her expectedly. She gathered herself to her feet and desperately tried to relax into a defence stance.

Remus hummed to himself and took to her side, examining her posture. ‘It’s better. Just try doing this with your arms.’ He lightly took her biceps and moved them backwards, pushing her shoulders back and her chest forward.

‘Perfect.’

A few spells later and she was forming brilliant shields. The pace was slow and relaxed, so they could talk while they lazily duelled.

‘Have you seen Draco since he left my class?’ He asked, shooting a jelly legs hex.

‘I’ve seen him around, briefly. He always looks miserable,’ she sighed, deflecting the hex with ease. ‘I wouldn’t take it personally, you know. Draco doesn’t like any lesson, he think he knows it all already. Everyone else thinks you’re the best professor in the school.’

Remus beamed. ‘Is that so?’

Hermione grinned. ‘Well, I think you’re rubbish, but everyone else thinks you’re good. For some reason.’

Remus chuckled, but after a moment of contemplation, his face dropped. ‘I did hear what he said, though. He called me ‘the werewolf’. Is that why he left?’

‘No, no, he calls me ‘mudblood’ and Harry every name under the sun,’ Hermione muttered. ‘That’s just Draco.’

They’d stopped duelling now, and instead simply stood talking.

‘Mudblood?’ Remus said, wincing. ‘That little shit.’

Hermione smiled. ‘It’s alright, I don’t mind it anymore. I’d never heard the word until he called me it, so it’s not like the word ever had that much venom to me.’

‘Still,’ he said, heading back to his chair and beckoning Hermione to do the same. ‘I’m now a bit glad he’s out of my classroom.’

‘Harry thinks there’s something up with him,’ Hermione said thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t see what he meant until that day. He was all…off. Weak spells and broken shields.’

Remus hummed and chewed his lip. ‘I may ask Severus,’ Remus pondered. ‘Though I must say, I’m not inclined to speak to him willingly. Still, I’m going to have to anyway, what with the Order.’

Hermione’s eyes widened. Remus smiled.

‘There’s no point in me hiding it from you, since I’m certain Harry’s already filled you in on the details,’ he said. Then he shot her a nervous look. ‘He has, hasn’t he? I haven’t just given away a massive secret?’

‘He has,’ she reassured him. ‘Don’t worry, you haven’t given away anything.’

He huffed and looked away, towards the bookcase. 

‘Sorry,’ he began, twirling the teacup in his fingers. ‘I’ve kept you from the whole reason you’ve suffered my company in the first place. Any books take your fancy?’

Hermione stood and strode over to the bookcase once more, Remus in tow. When she crouched to observe the bottom shelf she was very aware of Remus tensing beside her.

‘Surely you’re bored to death of reading about those bloody things,’ he muttered, plucking a book about ancient runes from a higher shelf and thumbing its pages aimlessly.

‘Not at all,’ she replied. This was true. She found werewolves astonishingly interesting but wasn’t sure how to express this curiosity without offending him. She didn’t want him to feel like he was under a microscope but at the same time she didn’t want to lie and say his lycanthropy wasn’t of great interest to her.

‘These are all very well read,’ she thought aloud, picking out a book about werewolves and their unique effects under every phase of the moon. Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy.

‘Had them since I can remember, really,’ he sighed, sitting on the floor alongside where she crouched. He leaned over to see the tome she’d picked up, and grimaced. ‘I don’t want to disappoint you, but a lot of it is nonsense. Not a lot of people can be bothered to study werewolves and those that do are usually a bit mad.’

‘I must be a bit mad, then,’ she said, flicking through its pages. Despite its wear and tear it was actually a rather beautiful book. It seemed quite old, with yellowing pages bound in black leather and had pages and pages of beautiful sketches of the moon. In the very centre of the book the entire lunar cycle was drawn out with incredibly detailed diagrams and notes, the inky moons circling the pages. Hermione traced the illustrations lightly.

‘You can borrow that if you like,’ Remus murmured. ‘I’ve read all these so much I know them word for word. There’s little they do for me now.’

Hermione thanked him as she held the book to her chest and stood to observe the shelves higher up. They didn’t seem to be in any order but were in considerably better condition. Her eyes flicked to the very end of the shelf, where a small photo frame stood and flickered with the moving subjects of the photograph. 

Remus simply sat and looked up at Hermione as she walked towards the photograph and observed its contents. It was a photograph of the Marauders, around her age. For a second she thought it was Harry standing proudly in the centre of the photograph before she realised it was his father; on his right was Sirius, grinning toothily at the camera; on James’s left was Lily, a pretty redheaded girl smiling pleasantly. Next to Sirius was a young Remus. Even then he looked a lot older than the rest of them, despite being smaller and slimmer. He smiled tiredly at whoever was taking the photo. She presumed it must’ve been Pettigrew, as he wasn’t in the photo himself.

‘One of my favourite photos,’ she heard Remus mutter. ‘Peter’s not in it. Though he’s there, taking it.’

‘You look rather handsome,’ she said, looking closer at the light haired boy in the photo. He was pale and more fragile-looking than the other boys in the photograph – James looked positively athletic and Sirius was lean and willowy. Still, handsome nonetheless.

Remus chuckled. ‘Thank you, Hermione. No girls thought that at the time, though. Only Sirius ever complimented me on my looks. Now that I think about it, he was probably being sarcastic.’

The book directly next to the photograph was curious. The Art of Animagi. 

‘Harry’d like this book,’ Hermione commented. ‘He’s desperate for Sirius to teach him to be an Animagus.’ 

‘It’s one of the ones they used to learn,’ Remus sighed, gathering to his feet and joining her side. He glanced at the photo and smiled. ‘Nicked it from the restricted section, I think.’ He laughed softly. ‘They really did so much for me. I didn’t deserve it, really.’

Hermione frowned at him. ‘Don’t say that.’

They seemed to ponder each other for a moment before Remus spoke. ‘Probably shouldn’t lend you that one if Harry’s on a mission,’ he muttered.

Hermione ended up with Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy, one on some complex-looking charms and one on transfiguration. When the two of them realised it was rather dark outdoors and Hermione was expected to be in her common room within the hour, she thanked him and promptly left, feeling rather wonderful.

♦ ♦ ♦

Remus and Hermione’s meetings in his rooms became a kind of regular thing. The following Saturday Hermione arrived to return the two books – not the book on lycanthropy, which she’d elected to hold onto for now – and to take another two. The following Saturday was her birthday.

On the 19th of September Hermione awoke to a rather impressive pile of gifts and cards at the foot of her bed. Lavender, Parvati and the other two girls she shared her dormitory with wished her a happy birthday before leaving to breakfast. It was only a few moments later Ginny arrived and leapt onto the bed beside her, pulling the brunette into a hug.

‘Morning,’ Hermione said into Ginny’s shoulder, her voice muffled.

Ginny grinned. ‘Happy Birthday! Eighteen! You’re an adult now, officially!’

‘I don’t feel much different,’ Hermione said, gazing at the presents scattered across the bed. ‘This is a bit of a shock, though.’

‘Open them, then,’ Ginny said, picking one at random and chucking it at her friend. ‘I’ll go make some tea. You should get dressed, too.’

While Ginny left the room Hermione pulled off her nightie and tugged on some jeans and a red jumper and started on her presents. Ron had supplied a large amount of chocolate frogs and every flavour beans; Harry had bought a rather beautiful orange quill and a pot of ink, alongside a blank leather-bound journal; Ginny had given her a lacy pair of underwear. It was when Hermione was opening Ginny’s gift that Ginny walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. When she saw Hermione open her gift she grinned and winked.

‘You need some nice ones,’ she said, a little mischievously.

‘Thank you, Ginny,’ Hermione said, rolling her eyes and smiling. Her parents had sent her a sundress and a basket of nice soaps and creams; Mrs Weasley had sent a box of baked goods. She’d received a couple of suspicious-looking packages from the Weasley twins she was too nervous to open, and from Sirius, a very old-looking first edition. She wondered whether it was from the Black Library - she'd not had a chance to scour those particular bookshelves yet.

The first half of the day was incredibly pleasant. Harry was moaning that they couldn’t go to Hogsmeade to celebrate, but the next trip wasn’t until the following month. 

‘We should go see Hagrid, at least,’ he grumbled. ‘Get out of the castle for a bit.’

So Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny left the castle and crossed the grounds to Hagrid’s hut, who was waiting with a large tray of rather intimidating cakes and pastries and a huge pot of tea. He swallowed up Hermione in his arms when he saw her, whirling her around and speaking almost incomprehensibly through loud sobs.

‘Eighteen! I remember when yer were just tiny! It’s gone so quickly! Ter think you lot won’t be ‘ere next year! Ah, I don’ wanna think abou’ it.’ 

‘I’ll be here, Hagrid,’ Ginny mumbled.

‘Oh, that’s right, so you will. Sorry, Ginny.’

Everyone seemed quite content with spending the afternoon and evening at Hagrid’s hut, but when Hermione saw the clock strike four she began to shift in her seat uncomfortably. This was the time she’d met Remus for the last two weeks in his rooms and while nothing was formally planned she’d hoped that he was expecting her. 

‘You alright, Hermione?’ Ron asked, clamping down on some kind of biscuit that was so hard it’s a miracle it didn’t break his teeth.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she said idly, watching the arms of the clock tick round. ‘It’s just I just remembered I had to give Re- Professor Lupin some books back I borrowed from him.’

‘Can’t you do that tomorrow or something?’ Harry said, suddenly breaking away from his and Hagrid’s conversation about centaurs.

‘I suppose,’ she muttered. ‘Though I’m just thinking he might be expecting me.’

‘Did you make plans?’ Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

‘Well, no, not really.’

‘Don’t worry then, ‘Ermione,’ Hagrid grinned, pouring water back into the kettle and shoving it back into the fireplace. ‘Y’know you can stay ‘ere as long as you like.’

‘Cheers, Hagrid,’ Harry answered on behalf of the group, and the two of them settled back into their conversation.

Hermione smiled weakly, deciding not to object. 

A few hours later, Hermione gathered the various plates and cups in the hut and took them to the sink to cast a cleaning charm. As she did so she gazed out the window across the grounds. It was a pleasant day but a thin mist had sat in the air all morning and afternoon, making it hard to see too far into the distance. But just as she was staring out, a figure emerged from the mist and caught her attention.

‘What’s Draco doing?’ she thought aloud. Harry immediately stood from his chair and joined Hermione’s side at the window, peering out. A few moments later three more figures appeared. Harry and Hermione could just work out that it was Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini. Draco was stood away from the three of them and appeared to be walking away from them. His wand was drawn and his body language wasn’t exactly friendly.

‘Are they arguing?’ Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows.

‘Sort of looks like it,’ Hermione replied.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Ron muttered from his chair, still working his way through the rock hard biscuit. He didn’t bother to get up.

Harry’s suspicions were confirmed when a huge burst of light cracked from someone’s wand from the group and sent off a chain of hexes and curses that created a great cluster of noise like a dozen fireworks being set off all once. Hermione froze in place but in a second Harry was sprinting out of the hut and running towards the scene, his wand already drawn, Hagrid shouting at him.

‘C’mon, you lot,’ Hagrid grumbled, whistling at Fang, who was asleep drooling in the corner.

The four of them, and Fang, left the hut a few moments later, but by the time they’d reached the scene only Draco remained, staggering to his feet, his face and arms scratched and bloody.

‘Are you alrigh’, Draco?’ Hagrid asked, shooting a look at Harry. Harry hadn’t gone to tend to Draco’s wounds but had instead taken to staring out at the retreating three boys who were now disappearing into the fog.

‘Do I look alright?’ Draco snapped, licking his lips. He had a nasty cut on his bottom lip which was gently beading with blood.

‘Do you want me to take a look at those?’ Hermione asked, glancing at his various wounds.

Draco sighed and took a defensive step back as she approached him. ‘No, Granger. I’m fine.’

‘What was all that about?’ asked Ron, eyeing the blond suspiciously.

‘Oh, you know, we were just arguing about who’s the prettiest out of all of us,’ Draco spat. ‘None of your business, Weasley, is it?’

‘You should probably report this, Draco,’ Hagrid said cautiously.

‘It’s really not worth my time,’ Draco muttered. ‘And neither are they. Or you, actually.’

And with that, and a short look at Harry, he stalked away, his black cloak billowing behind him. 

‘He is honestly so weird,’ Ginny said. Hermione hummed in agreement and looked at Harry, who was watching Draco stride away with a contemplative look on his face.

‘Maybe you lot should go back t’ yer common room. If word gets out about this fight it’s probably best not to be near where it ‘appened,’ Hagrid said.

‘Good point,’ Ron said, and nudged his sister, who was staring at Harry. She nodded, and the three began to leave. Hermione smiled at Hagrid and thanked him for everything before following the others, though walked a little way behind them, deep in thought. Draco had always been the supposed leader of his gang, the one the rest followed around and respected, or at least feared. Everything he said they’d agree with and everything he wanted them to do they did. Why would they turn on him?

After dinner Hermione went to bed, curling up in her blankets with Crookshanks and her lycanthropy book. She fell asleep wondering what Remus had done that afternoon.


	4. The Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. There's some minor violence in this chapter xx

Hermione spent the following day finishing her homework that she hadn’t got done on her birthday, but found herself rushing to complete it so she could see Remus as soon as possible. After she finished her last essay for Snape she gathered her things and headed to his rooms, where she hoped he’d be.

She knocked and waited. Nothing. 

She sighed, kicking her feet on the ground. She supposed he had other things to do. Right now her three friends were in Quidditch practice. It was only her with no plans.

She strolled down the corridors and considered going back to the common room to read before passing the entrance to the dungeons. She figured she might as well hand in her essay for Snape now – she needed to at some point.

A shiver ran through her as she descended the stone steps of the dungeons, as it always did. She didn’t understand why it was necessary for it to always be so bloody cold down here. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she poked her head round the door of Snape’s classroom. There he was, standing over a bubbling, smoking cauldron, seemingly muttering to himself.

Before entering, Hermione heard another voice from the other side of the room. Remus’s, to be exact. She stood behind the door and listened for a while. 

‘I pray your holidays weren’t a complete waste of time?’ she heard Snape sneer. The potion bubbled loudly over his voice, but she could just make his words out.

‘I’d rather not discuss it with you now, Severus,’ she heard Remus reply, rather exasperatedly. ‘At the first meeting I’ll present a formal report for Albus. You can await excitedly in anticipation for that,’ he quipped.

‘I’d find pulling out my own teeth more exciting,’ Snape muttered. The two fell into silence for a moment before Snape spoke again. ‘Miss Granger, is there a reason you’re lurking outside my classroom?’

Hermione reddened and promptly entered the room. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said. She glanced at Remus, who was watching her interestedly.

‘I was looking for you, actually,’ Hermione said, and began to fumble through her bag. ‘To return the books you leant me. Would have done it yesterday but I was, er, busy.’

‘How did you know I was here?’ Remus asked, narrowing his eyes. 

‘I didn’t,’ Hermione breathed. ‘I just came down to submit my paper,’ she grabbed one of the scrolls of parchment contained in her bag and handed it towards Snape, who was observing her with a cocked eyebrow. He snapped the parchment from her in one flick of his wrist and glared at her.

‘Anything else, Miss Granger?’ 

She scanned the room for a moment. She really had little to do and she rather hoped she could leave the classroom with Remus, though it appeared he was currently preoccupied. She examined the bubbling cauldron at her feet.

‘I’ve never seen this concoction before,’ she said, injecting some enthusiasm into her voice. Snape muttered something under his breath so quietly it disappeared under the noise of the potion.

‘You wouldn’t’ve,’ Remus said, lifting himself onto one of the desks. ‘It’s wolfsbane potion.’

Hermione breathed an ‘oh’, and watched the steam rise. In an eerily similar way, anger seemed to be rising in her potions professor.

‘Granger, unless you’re going to make yourself useful, leave.’

‘I can make myself useful,’ she said, dropping her bag onto a seat and smiling at her two professors. ‘I don’t have any plans today.’

She could’ve sworn she saw Snape’s eye twitch. He glanced at Remus, who simply shrugged and smirked.

Snape shot a dark look at Hermione. ‘The wolfsbane potion is one that is extremely complex. One slight miscalculation and its consumption will have disastrous effects.’

‘I’m very careful,’ she enthused. ‘When have I ever messed up a potion?’

‘This isn’t your average sleeping drought, Miss Granger,’ he drawled. He let out a deep sigh. ‘Just hand me things when I tell you to hand me things.’

Remus and Hermione chatted warmly while Snape remained almost unnervingly silent, brooding over the cauldron. When the potion appeared complete Snape barked at Hermione to collect seven goblet-sized vials from the cabinet. She lined them out on a nearby desk and looked back at the potion, which was now emitting a blue steam.

‘If you’re capable of not making a mess in my classroom you can help me fill these,’ he muttered, handing her a ladle. Remus stood from the desk and looked over Hermione’s shoulder whilst she carefully poured the thick liquid into the glass vials. It was an incredibly dark blue colour, like midnight, with a bizarre consistency, and continued to steam until Hermione and Snape plugged the vials with corks. Snape used an accio charm to summon a small wooden crate from across the room into which he stacked the seven vials.

‘Good job, Hermione,’ Remus said cheerfully.

‘Oh for Merlin’s sake, don’t encourage her, Lupin,’ Snape growled, glaring at his colleague and then at the crate of potions. ‘Well, there you are.’

‘Thank you once again, Severus,’ Remus chimed, lifting the crate and smiling almost unnaturally widely at the other man. ‘I do enjoy these times we share together. It’s easily my favourite time of the month.’

‘Just get out of my classroom.’

Remus bit down a laugh before shooting a Hermione a look and cocking his head at the door. She grabbed her bag from the chair, smiled politely at the potions master and rushed after Lupin as fast as she could. Neither of them spoke until they’d reached the top of the stairs and were safely out of Snape’s earshot.

‘You know,’ Remus began, ‘he may be the loveliest man I know.’ 

Hermione laughed. ‘He seems to just love you.’

‘Oh, do you think so?’ Remus asked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. ‘I think so too.’

Hermione was telling him about the DADA lesson Snape substituted for Remus in her third year (and the rather impressive amount of times Snape managed to say the word ‘werewolf’ in just one lesson) before Remus began to fall into some kind of deep thought.

‘In all seriousness, though,’ Remus said, ‘I do think he rather likes you.’

Hermione wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. ‘He thinks I’m an insufferable know-it-all.’ She paused, and then added, ‘he’s not wrong, but still.’

‘That’d be rich coming from him,’ Remus chuckled. ‘You should’ve seen him at your age. Insufferable doesn’t quite cover it.’ He shot a grin at Hermione. ‘Perhaps that’s why he likes you. Another insufferable know-it-all.’

Hermione looked at him gravely. ‘He hates me.’

Remus pondered this. ‘Severus hates everyone. But he tolerates some more than others. He tolerates you a great deal. He’d never let… oh, I don’t know… poor Neville assist with a delicate potion like wolfsbane. I think he respects you. In his own strange little way.’

Hermione rolled her eyes in disbelief. They entered his rooms and Remus dropped his crate of wolfsbane onto the table. Suddenly he winced with pain and his hand fell to his thigh, dropping himself onto an armchair.

‘What happened to your leg?’ Hermione asked curiously. 

Remus seemed reluctant to say at first. ‘Injury from one of my excursions abroad. It plays up around the full moon.’

Hermione looked sympathetically at him before speaking again. ‘Do you mind me asking how it happened?’

Remus rubbed his leg as he spoke. ‘A werewolf pack in Spain. Their alpha wasn’t co-operative to say the least. We had a… conflict of interests, and it got heated. During a full moon he attacked me and tore a deep gash in my leg. He later claimed that the wolfsbane potion he’d taken had been tampered with – he heavily implied I had tampered with it, actually – and so had been rendered useless, driving him out of his mind. Though I imagine he was fully aware of what he was doing.’

Hermione didn’t really know what to say. ‘I’m sorry you went through that.’

Remus barked out a laugh. ‘I’ve done worse to myself over the years. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.’

‘Why can’t it be healed with magic?’

Remus sighed. ‘It was mostly healed. But the circumstances were complicated and, as I’m sure you’re aware, not all can be fixed with magic.’

Hermione slumped into the chair opposite and looked at the crate of wolfsbane before deciding to change the subject.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come round yesterday. I would’ve, but I was practically held hostage at Hagrid’s hut.’

Remus chuckled. ‘It was your birthday, wasn’t it?’

Hermione blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah – how did you know that?’

‘Sirius mentioned it,’ he said. ‘He had no idea what to get you – he said Harry was useless. And he had no idea what to get a teenage girl.’

Hermione laughed. ‘The book seems wonderful.’

Remus smiled, but started to shift in his chair awkwardly wearing an expression of slight discomfort. ‘I have something for you too, actually,’ he mumbled.

‘Oh!’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘You really didn’t have to do that.’

‘I wanted to,’ Remus said quietly, standing from the chair and heading to one of the trunks at the side of the room. ‘But please don’t get excited, it really isn’t anything special…’

Hermione watched as the man bent down and unlocked the trunk with some special combination. It flung open and he lifted out a small package wrapped in brown paper held together with a red ribbon. He gripped it in his hand before handing it to her.

‘I thought I should give you something. I feel as though I owe you a great deal,’ he said sadly. ‘You were the only one that learned the truth about my lycanthropy and you kept it to yourself. I’m glad it was you that found out.’

Hermione found herself utterly wordless as he handed over the gift. ‘Happy belated birthday,’ he chuckled.

‘Thank you, Remus,’ she said, feeling strangely overwhelmed. She fumbled with the ribbon and the paper fell open to reveal a small, delicate chain. It appeared to be a bracelet of some kind. It was quite modest, but pretty, and had a slight silvery glow about it.

‘One of the various trinkets I picked up while I was abroad,’ Remus began. He sat in the chair opposite her again and leaned forward towards her, his hands clasped together. ‘This was from France. It’s a mood bracelet. It changes colour depending on your dominant mood and shines different colours if you’ve mixed emotions,’ he paused for a moment, before hastily adding, ‘silly, really. Like you need telling what your mood is.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Hermione said, immediately sliding it onto her wrist and outstretching her arm to properly observe it. It changed from silver to a brilliant golden yellow.

‘Happy,’ Remus said flatly.

Hermione laughed. ‘It’s a wonderful gift, Remus, thank you.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’ 

Hermione played with the chain idly while Remus busied himself with making tea for the two of them. When he placed the cup in front of her and smiled warmly neither of them noticed the bracelet radiating a faint pink glow.

♦ ♦ ♦

On September the 29th Professor Lupin was unable to attend his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. It wasn’t much of a secret as to why – in fact, most students anticipated his absence and sat solemnly in their seats as they awaited whoever would substitute their class.

To the Slytherins’ great pleasure and the Gryffindors’ great dismay, that person turned out to be Severus Snape. Hermione and some others had guessed this; Draco Malfoy had decided to turn up to this particular lesson, though still looked as murderous as ever.

The potions master entered with a look that was virtually hazardous. He stalked to the front of the class and seemed to analyse every single student before finally speaking.

‘Professor Lupin is feeling too unwell to teach today,’ he drawled, ‘because he is a werewolf, and last night was the full moon.’

The class stared blankly at him. Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be angry or not. 

‘He intended to teach you how to defend against curses that can penetrate the basic shield,’ he continued. ‘The spell for the basic shield charm, anyone?’

Hermione kept her arm down and her mouth firmly shut. She knew Snape would only punish her for talking too much.

‘Protego,’ someone answered.

‘And the four variations?’ 

Nobody spoke. Snape looked at Hermione as though to dare her to speak. She didn’t. 

Snape’s lessons were far less relaxed and far less fun than Remus’s. To everyone’s frustration – with the exception of Hermione, who was secretly pleased – he did not allow the class to choose their duelling partners, and instead paired them up himself. Hermione was paired with a quiet Slytherin girl she didn’t know very well. An absolutely petrified Neville was paired with Draco.

Snape also did not allow more than one pair to duel at once. He cleared a space in the centre of the room and himself and the students surrounded it, taking turns to duel while the rest of the class watched. 

Hermione was watching Ron and Parvati duel when Neville sidled up beside her and gave her a gentle nudge. ‘Hermione,’ he whispered.

She looked at him. He grimaced slightly. ‘Could we switch partners?’ He whispered. 

‘Snape chose them,’ she replied, glancing at her professor. He was watching the duel though she didn’t think it was unlikely that he was listening.

‘Please?’ he insisted, his voice thick with desperation. ‘I know Roberta. She’s in the Herbology after-school club.’ He looked at the Slytherin girl who offered Neville a small smile before looking back at the duel.

Hermione sighed in defeat. ‘Alright.’

He smiled gratefully at her as he moved closer to Roberta and said something to her. Hermione looked at Draco, who had observed the whole exchange. He looked somewhat amused.

‘Sorry. Stuck with me again,’ she muttered. Draco shrugged.

Snape didn’t object to the change in partners but watched with great curiosity as Draco and Hermione took their positions in the centre of the room. Hermione was ready for more of a challenge than last time as she was sure Draco would be eager to impress this particular professor more than Remus.

Draco was to raise a complex protego to defend against a spell of Hermione’s choice. On Snape’s count of three, she shot a stunning charm which Draco was unable to defend against; his shield wobbled and shattered and he was rendered fully unconscious all in a second.

Snape groaned and cast a reversal spell, rolling his eyes as Draco pulled himself up from his feet.

‘See if you can do better, Miss Granger,’ Snape said, eyeing Draco contemptuously. ‘Not that it’ll be hard.’

Draco scowled, face pink, as Hermione took her position.

‘One, two-’

Draco shot pre-emptively and Hermione was not prepared for the jet of white light that burst from Draco’s wand that sliced into her skin in burning hot ripples. She staggered backwards, a blinding agony cutting into her flesh bluntly and brutally, her shirt feeling warm and wet against her skin. She didn’t remember falling to the ground in a great crash and didn’t realise she had let out a loud blood curdling scream.

She couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a couple of seconds because through all the pain and paralysing terror she was acutely aware of everything that unravelled in the next few moments. Her classmates were shrieking and shouting and many had drawn their wands; Snape had grabbed Draco by the neck of his cloak and pushed him to the ground behind him, drawing his own wand and casting a mass immobilisation charm. Hermione felt her body stiffen. She could only watch as Snape hauled Draco to his feet and shouted something that Hermione couldn’t make out, as the screams of her classmates were still pounding in her head. Draco ran from the scene so fast it was almost as though he’d disapparated into thin air. Then Snape reversed the immobilisation charm and ordered the class to exit immediately with such ferocity and severity that nobody objected. A moment later the room was empty and Snape had leant over Hermione and was murmuring some strange incantation.

And then she was… fine. 

She ached slightly. But the tears in her flesh had knitted together leaving no trace and only her blood-soaked clothes were evidence that the events of the last thirty seconds had happened at all.

Snape remained crouched on the floor next to her as she managed to sit up wearily and try to process what had just happened. 

Neither of them spoke. Snape was just staring at her with an expression Hermione had never seen before. He was filled with genuine concern.

After what felt like an eternity of stunned silence Snape informed her in a low voice that Madam Pomfrey and her assistants would be arriving any moment to take her to the infirmary to tend to any damage. Hermione tried to object, reassuring her professor that she was fine and able to walk without difficulty, but he ignored her. When Madam Pomfrey arrived he made sure that Hermione was treated with incredible care.

Hermione herself actually found all the fuss rather embarrassing. She tried to tell one of the junior healers that she was absolutely fine, but as soon as the healer even considered this for a second, Snape had snapped at him to hurry up and do his job with a filthy glare.

Hermione lifted herself onto the stretcher and took the time she had while being transported to the infirmary to think. She’d already forgotten the spell that Draco had uttered but she was certain that she did not recognise it. She was also certain that it was some kind of dark magic.

When Hermione, the healers and Snape arrived at the infirmary she was gently lifted onto one of the hospital beds, her insistence that she was fine totally ignored. Madam Pomfrey hushed to silence her and began to fuss over her bed.

It was only a few minutes before Harry, Ron, and a slew of others were rushing into the hospital wing. Hermione saw to her surprise that Professor Dumbledore was one of them, McGonagall at his side, both looking greatly concerned. 

‘Miss Granger!’ McGonagall cried. ‘Are you alright, dear?’

‘I’m completely fine, thanks to Professor Snape,’ Hermione said, smiling at her potions professor. He looked at her. If she didn’t know any better she’d have said he looked… guilty. But that didn’t make any sense at all.

‘Professor Snape? Can you explain to us exactly what happened?’ Dumbledore asked, peering at the other man.

Snape launched into how Draco and Hermione were preparing for a duel before Draco cast a dangerous curse before Hermione could lift her shield. He had cast an immobilisation spell to stop the rest of the class – he shot a look at Ron and Harry – from attacking Draco, and ordered Draco to flee to his office immediately, where he would be shortly. Then he’d sent the class out to clear some space for Hermione while he healed her wounds.

‘And what spell did Mr. Malfoy cast?’ Dumbledore asked curiously.

Snape was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘I am not aware.’

‘Not aware?’ Harry spat. ‘How can you not be aware?’

‘Quiet, Mr. Potter,’ McGonagall said briskly, though was looking at Snape with a certain unease.

‘He’s covering for Malfoy!’ Harry insisted, almost shouting. ‘He knows what he did, I can tell! He’s just protecting him because he’s a Slytherin!’

‘Enough,’ Dumbledore said firmly. Harry inhaled deeply and glared at Snape, his hands curling into fists. Ron looked as though he were about to explode, but didn’t appear to want to challenge Dumbledore’s patience any further.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said, ‘please. Professor Snape saved my life. It’s not his fault, none of it.’

Harry looked at her, the anger in his face faltering slightly, and he nodded, albeit a little reluctantly. 

‘And if that’s all,’ Snape said, uncharacteristically quietly, ‘Mr. Malfoy should still be waiting in my office. I’d like to deal with him myself, as his head of house.’

Dumbledore nodded once and the potions master strode away, disappearing from the hospital wing.

Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey was growing frustrated. ‘I’d like to examine my patient with a little privacy if that’s alright with you, headmaster.’

‘Of course,’ he smiled. He nodded at Hermione before encouraging the crowd to step away from the hospital bed. 

‘We’ll be just outside,’ said Ron, dragging Harry away by the shoulder. Hermione heard the two boys talking furiously to each other in hushed tones as they exited the wing.

‘Let’s get you out of that shirt,’ Madam Pomfrey said, grimacing at the blood still wet on her skin. Hermione was given a clean set of white clothes to change into, and Madame Pomfrey took the opportunity to check her skin for wounds.

‘Looks like your Professor did a good job,’ she said. ‘No scarring at all, absolutely seamless. You’d never know anything happened. I’d like you to stay the night though, just in case.’

Hermione nodded and thanked the matron as she bustled away to tend to the other patients in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey must have given the go ahead for her friends to return to the wing because a few moments later Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville were surrounding her bed.

‘Hermione,’ Neville said weakly, his voice full of shame. ‘I’m so sorry, if I hadn’t made you switch partners…’

‘He might have done this to you, and I’d never want that, Neville,’ Hermione said reassuringly. Then, over Neville’s shoulder, she saw Remus rushing towards her.

‘Hermione!’ he gasped, a little breathless. He looked far worse than she did. He was extremely pale and bedraggled, unshaven, hair a mess and great dark lines circling his eyes. It must have been a particularly bad transformation the night before.

‘Bloody hell, sir, you look terrible,’ Ron said.

‘Thanks, Ron,’ Remus replied, narrowing his eyes a little. He looked at Hermione sorrowfully. ‘I just heard what happened. I came as soon as I could.’

‘I keep telling everyone, I’m completely okay. Snape took care of everything.’

A hint of suspicion flashed across Remus’s face.

‘I’ve never seen Snape so worried,’ Luna said thoughtfully. ‘Or so angry.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be Draco,’ Neville added.

‘I just wish I’d been there,’ Remus said sadly. ‘Although perhaps it’s better that I wasn’t. I can’t imagine what I’d have done to Malfoy.’

Harry spat out a laugh. ‘I bet Snape’s giving him a medal.’

Hermione sighed and pushed down her ascending anger. The bracelet on her wrist was flashing a violent red.

‘Harry,’ she said slowly, trying not to shout. ‘I’m feeling a bit tired, and your next lesson is starting. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you all tomorrow.’

The group seemed reluctant to leave but with additional insistence from Remus they eventually left the wing, Ginny promising to visit in the evening. Remus lingered behind, eyeing the blood-soaked clothes lying in the basket next to her bed.

‘I wish they would be a little nicer about Snape,’ she said quietly. ‘He saved my life today.’

Remus summoned a chair from a little way away and pulled it alongside her bed, sitting down wordlessly. 

‘No offence,’ she continued, ‘but you look worse than I feel.’

He laughed loudly and put his face in his hands. ‘I assure you, you look absolutely awful.’

‘How was the full moon last night?’ she asked. When he frowned she felt a tightness in her chest. That was probably a horribly inappropriate question.

She was about to ramble a lengthy apology but he’d already started talking before she could. ‘Pretty bad,’ he said. ‘Terrible, actually. But it isn’t anything I can’t handle. I’m far more worried about you.’

She smiled. ‘You don’t have to worry at all. Like I said, Snape saved my life.’

Remus only hummed a reply, looking oddly sceptical, and shoved his hand in his pocket to dig out a bar of chocolate. ‘I brought this. Thought it might make you feel better.’

‘I thought that was only after dementor attacks,’ she smirked.

‘It’s for a myriad of situations,’ he grinned, breaking a piece off for himself and handing the rest to her. ‘Dementor attacks. Recovery from transformations. Nasty spells.’

She sighed. ‘Nasty is an understatement. I can’t remember being in so much pain.’ 

As she took the chocolate from her professor her fingers brushed lightly against his and she rather wanted to keep them held there. But he leant back in his chair, his hands clasped together on his lap, and the two spoke with a strange distance between them.


	5. The Hog's Head

News spread ridiculously quickly in Hogwarts. So when word got out that Draco Malfoy had attacked Hermione Granger with mysterious dark magic, it had spread like wildfire, the castle alight with gossip and speculation. The day she was released from the hospital wing was the day she noticed the whispers of strangers following her around the school, the staring and the pointing, the incessant ‘are you okay?’s from people she didn’t even know. Suddenly, she had an idea of what it was like to be Harry Potter – and she didn’t like it one bit.

So when she was able to escape the castle and its residents for a Hogsmeade trip she was overjoyed with relief. And to make it even better, she, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Remus were meeting Sirius Black while they were there.

Hermione awoke on the Saturday as early as she sensibly could and dressed quietly to avoid waking the others in her dormitory. It’d been chilly lately so she pulled on some warm clothes with a jacket and her Gryffindor scarf and set off to breakfast. After a cup of tea and some toast, the group rushed to where the staff escorting the students to Hogsmeade were waiting.

Swarms of students were rapidly accumulating outside and many were already on their way down the path that led to the village. Hermione peered through the crowds and quickly found Remus stood taking in permission slips from the third years; she and the others stood nearby nonchalantly until the queue disappeared.

‘Ready?’ he asked, smiling widely at them all. Clearly he was as excited as the rest of them were to see his friend in person again.

Hermione and Remus walked side by side and chatted the entire walk to Hogsmeade. Hermione thought that he looked good today; less tired, younger, happier. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was in the middle of the lunar cycle – according to Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy, the best time for a werewolf – or because he was seeing Sirius today. Probably both.

‘Where are we meeting him?’ Ron asked as they reached the village, looking around as though he expected the convicted criminal to emerge from The Three Broomsticks with a butterbeer.

‘Hog’s Head,’ Remus said, glancing at his timepiece. ‘In fact, we better hurry. We’re a little late.’

The Hog’s Head was a dingy, dirty pub away from the busier parts of Hogsmeade, and they had to walk through most of the village until they reached it. It was a relatively clear day, and the Shrieking Shack was in clear view as soon as they reached the outskirts of the village. Remus went quiet. 

‘Are you okay?’ Hermione asked quietly, lightly placing her hand on his arm. She was certain the sight of the place brought back a lot of bad memories. He continued to gaze out at the old ruin before clearing his throat.

‘I am,’ he said, though looked a tad embarrassed. ‘Better than okay.’

Hermione kept an eye on him as they pursued the rest of the journey and reached the old pub. She grimaced slightly as she saw the state of the windows, which were blackened with grime. Remus led the way into the pub first, opening the old door gently with a low, long creak, and ushered his students in quietly. Remus’s attempts at remaining as inconspicuous as possible were rendered futile, however, because Ron immediately let out a loud groan of disgust at the state of the place.

There was no need to worry, though; only one other person was in the room. He was bent over a pint of some dirty-golden liquid, a black cloak falling over his face. But nobody was in doubt as to who it was.

Remus stalked across the room and the other man stood almost immediately and the two met in a great embrace, Sirius yanking his hood from his head and laughing a wonderful, joyous laugh. He ruffled Remus’s hair as though he were a child and grinned widely at his friend.

‘It’s been far, far too long, Moony,’ he exclaimed, his happiness absolutely palpable. 

‘Far too long, Padfoot,’ Remus replied, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Harry had joined Remus’s side and was smiling at his godfather, who pulled him to his chest in a fatherly hug.

‘Good to see you, Harry,’ he said, patting his godson’s back affectionately before making his way over to the two Weasleys and Hermione. He wrapped his arms round all three of them in what was a somewhat overcrowded, though lovely, group embrace.

‘And you three, of course,’ he said, pulling back and beaming at them. ‘Glad to hear you’ve been keeping Moony company,’ he added, winking at Hermione. She reddened a little. She wasn’t totally sure what he was insinuating, but he appeared to be insinuating something.

The six of them sat around a wobbly wooden table in the darkest corner of the room, Hermione squeezed between Remus and Ginny. Ginny was beaming at Sirius with a look of utter admiration. When Hermione cocked an eyebrow at her, she grinned mischievously and winked. Ginny had always had a little crush on Sirius.

Sirius had requested to be filled in on all the details of the year so far. Harry briefly reiterated his meeting with Dumbledore at the beginning of year, not wanting to linger on the subject for too long; Remus updated Sirius with the latest information about the reconstitution of the Order of the Phoenix; and then Sirius’s attention focused on Hermione, who had to retell her experience with Draco for what felt like the billionth time.

‘Sounds like old Snivellus-’

‘Don’t call him that, Sirius,’ Remus interjected, his voice firm. Sirius rolled his eyes and poked his tongue out at his friend before finishing his sentence.

‘Severus, is protecting Malfoy,’ Sirius said, pulling a face. 

‘That’s exactly what I said!’ Harry exclaimed, his expression almost eerily similar to his godfather’s. ‘Listen, Hermione, he’s not the saint you’re making him out to be.’

‘You didn’t see him undo Draco’s damage,’ she snapped, the memories of a concerned Snape flashing through her mind. ‘He’s not the evil man you make him to be.’

Sirius and Harry raised their eyebrows at each other and turned to Remus.

‘Whad’you think, Moony?’

Remus pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully. ‘I think Severus saving his student’s life was neither the action of a saint nor an evil man, but of a competent teacher,’ he said. ‘As I’ve said before – if Dumbledore trusts him, I trust him. I don’t believe he had any ulterior motives in doing what he did. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he is defending Draco, but only to protect another student from harm.’

Sirius groaned. ‘Merlin, are you in love with him?’

Remus cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, he does have nice eyes.’

Sirius smirked and leant back in his chair. ‘After you’ve finished at Hogsmeade, I’m leaving with you as Padfoot. I’m going to spend some time in the Shrieking Shack.’

Remus winced. ‘God, why?’

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His experience at the Shrieking Shack hadn’t been all that pleasant either – it was the place he’d discovered he’d been sleeping with a traitorous murderer in rat form for years and been mauled by a giant black dog.

‘Getting bored of Grimmauld,’ Sirius shrugged. A glare from his werewolf friend prompted him to try again.

‘I need to be closer to Dumbledore right now,’ he said. ‘And to all of you. It’s the only place I can think of that’s safe for me to stay.’

‘So we can meet more regularly, now?’ Harry asked excitedly.

‘Yes, Harry,’ Sirius grinned.

‘Within reason,’ Remus added. Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed overdramatically, wrapping an arm round Remus’s neck. 

‘C’mon, Moony, have a bit of fun for once.’

‘I have plenty of fun,’ Remus said defensively.

Sirius smirked. ‘Yeah, I bet,’ he muttered. ‘Anyway, I was thinking it would be a perfect place to teach you how to be an animagus, Harry.’

‘Absolutely not!’ Hermione and Remus said in perfect unison. Sirius chuckled.

‘Oh, now, that’s adorable!’ he said cheerily. Ginny giggled.

Remus shot him a filthy look that could rival even Snape. ‘That isn’t happening, Sirius. It’s far too dangerous.’

‘Can I learn too, Sirius?’ Ron asked. Hermione looked at him in utter disbelief.

‘Sure.’

‘Sirius!’ Remus snapped. ‘Nobody’s learning. It’s a bloody miracle you and the others managed to get away with it in the first place, let alone emerge from the process relatively unscathed. And I will not betray Dumbledore’s trust again by allowing this.’

‘Not up to you,’ Sirius retorted. He looked at Harry, who was smiling from ear to ear. ‘What can I say, the boy wore me down. He’s a charmer. Like his godfather.’

‘It’s not up to a seventeen year old boy either, Sirius,’ Remus muttered darkly. ‘We’ll discuss this later. But for now, no animagus lessons.’

Sirius shrugged and looked at his godson. Harry looked back. It was sometimes as though they were able to communicate wordlessly.

The conversation eventually settled into something more pleasant and light-hearted and before any of them knew it the evening was fast approaching. Sirius smoothly transformed into the large black dog and trotted alongside Harry as they made their way back through the village, rain beginning to fall from the clouded sky. Remus cast a spell to shield himself and Hermione from the gentle downpour.

‘The tea shop,’ he said all of a sudden.

‘What?’

‘We should go,’ he said. He was speaking so cautiously it was like he was deactivating a bomb with voice control.

‘I don’t think Padfoot would quite fit in,’ Hermione quipped, glancing at the shaggy black dog. He began to whine in such a way that she was almost sure was sarcastic.

Remus didn’t speak again until the others were a little further ahead. ‘I meant just us,’ he said quietly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘Just… us?’

Remus stared straight ahead. ‘Just because every Saturday we drink tea in my stuffy old office and it might be nice to have a change of scenery.’ He was almost rambling.

Harry must’ve overheard because he glanced back at the two of them wearing a grim expression. ‘Wouldn’t touch that place with a fifty foot pole if I were you,’ he warned gravely. ‘I went with Cho once. Long story short, she cried, I set the tablecloth on fire and the tea was awful.’

Ginny laughed and grabbed his hand. ‘I’m glad you had such a horrible time,’ she said affectionately.

‘Not to mention it’s full of happy couples snogging,’ Ron added. ‘Went there with Lavender. You could practically smell the hormones, it was grim.’

Remus straightened his back, his lips thin. ‘Perhaps not, then.’

Hermione chewed her lip and looked up at the sky. The rain was delicately bouncing off the spell’s barrier and cascading down around the two of them. 

When the six reached Hogwarts grounds Padfoot whined softly and wagged his tail, gazing at all of them with big brown eyes. Harry patted him awkwardly on the head, and with that, the dog sprinted off towards the Whomping Willow, disappearing into the darkness after a few short moments.

‘I care deeply for Sirius,’ Remus began, ‘but he also makes me want to tear my hair out.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Hermione said, looking at Ron and Harry. They were currently engaged in a sword fight with their wands.

♦ ♦ ♦

‘Afternoon, everyone!’ Hagrid bellowed, beaming down at the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in his class. ‘Though’ we’d move on to the Forbidden Forest today!’

Hagrid had seemingly exhausted his lessons that had taken place at the Black Lake. They’d spent weeks standing by the water’s edge, waiting for something happen, while Hagrid grumbled about the creatures being ‘shy’ and tossed bits of bread into the lake. Now they were stood outside Hagrid’s hut, eyeing the outskirts of the forest nervously. 

‘Isn’t that forbidden?’ a hufflepuff girl asked.

‘Not when yeh’ve got Dumbledore’s permission,’ he said cheerily, whistling at Fang and motioning for the class to follow. ‘Come on, then! Proper excitin’, this!’

The class anxiously trailed behind the giant as he took long confident strides towards the forest. He was engaged in some conversation with a keen Hufflepuff boy jogging alongside him, and was hardly aware of the nervous chattering of his other students.

‘Hate this bloody place,’ Ron grumbled, scowling at his feet. Hermione was in agreement. It was a relatively nice day for late October but it felt like night-time after they’d ventured only a short way into the forest. Most people cast a lumos, the pale light illuminating the spider-webbed trees and the downtrodden earth. Ron whined something incoherent about spiders.

‘Now,’ Hagrid said, crouching down to examine the base of a tree. ‘We’re lookin’ for Bowtruckles. Be careful, mind, they’re usually peaceful but can turn to righ’ little nasty blinders if they think yer a threat.’

Hermione sighed. She’d read about Bowtruckles – they were notoriously difficult to find. She prepared herself for another Care of Magical Creatures lesson with very few Magical Creatures.

‘What else is in the forest, Hagrid?’ asked the Hufflepuff boy excitedly. 

‘Plenty!’ he said, beaming at the student. ‘Thestrals, unicorns, ‘ippogriffs – probably won’t see many o’ them, they tend ter prefer the deeper parts o’ the forest…’

‘Are there spiders?’ the boy asked.

‘What do you bloody think,’ Ron muttered, grimacing at the silvery web clinging to every tree trunk.

‘Ooh, yeah. They’re called acroman’ulas. Very misunderstood creatures, they are.’

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, looking sceptical. They’d told Hermione many times about their narrow escape from being eaten alive by a colony of giant spiders. They certainly didn’t sound particularly misunderstood from what she’d been told.

‘Are there werewolves?’

Ernie Macmillan had asked this. Hermione glared at him, but with the bad light, he didn’t notice.

‘Uh, no,’ Hagrid said cautiously. ‘No poin’, is there? Only transform one nigh’ in a month. Wha’ would they do fer the rest o’ the month?’ 

‘Teach at Hogwarts?’ Ernie muttered to Hannah Abbott, quiet enough so that Hagrid didn’t hear. She grinned at him and slapped his arm playfully.

‘Tell yer wha’, though,’ Hagrid continued, ‘there’s a pack o’ werewolf offspring right here in the forest. Beau’iful things, very rare, ruddy clever, too…’ Hagrid said. ‘Though, keep that ter yerselves, will yer? Not really supposed to tell yer that…’

Hagrid changed the subject and requested that everybody separate into groups and take a tree each to examine for signs of Bowtruckles. Harry, Hermione and Ron took up a tree next to Ernie, Hannah and some other Hufflepuffs, and Hermione couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation.

‘I haven’t been to any of his lessons,’ Ernie said proudly. ‘I’m not going to risk turning into one of them.’

Hannah seemed unsure. ‘He seems completely normal, though…’

‘Yeah, well, I bet he’s gotten good at acting normal,’ Ernie said. 

Hermione frowned. Her heart was pumping and her breathing was quickening. She clenched her fists and tried to focus on the tree.

‘You okay?’ Harry asked, shining his light a little closer to her. She nodded curtly, though she knew her face was red and twisted into a scowl.

‘Hagrid,’ Ernie said, calling the giant over.

‘Yes, Ernie?’

‘You’re absolutely sure there aren’t any werewolves in this forest?’ he asked.

‘I’m absolutely sure, Ernie.’

‘But where does Professor Lupin go when he transforms?’

Hagrid frowned. ‘I don’ think tha’s an appropriate question,’ he said.

‘But if he doesn’t go in the forest, where does he go?’

Hagrid sighed. ‘It’s nothing yer should worry yerself about, Ernie.’

‘But if he doesn’t go to the forest, he must stay in Hogwarts,’ Ernie pushed on. ‘And that means there’s a bloody great werewolf in a school full of students! How are any of us safe?’

Hagrid opened his mouth to respond but before he could do so Hermione had outstretched her wand arm and cried ‘mimblewimble!’

‘Hermione!’ Hagrid gasped. The entire class turned to look at Ernie Macmillan, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish. Ron burst into a fit of laughter.

‘You okay, Ernie? You’re a bit quiet,’ Ron said, chortling as though he’d said the funniest thing in the world. Harry seemed to think so, as he too joined in on the laughing.

Ernie’s face twisted with anger and he thrust his wand at Hermione, but nothing happened. He continued to gape at all of them, his wand-arm shaking with fury. Hermione pursed her lips in a satisfied smile, but her face fell when she saw the disappointed look on Hagrid’s face.

‘I don’ know the counter-spell fer this,’ he muttered, placing his giant hand on Ernie’s shoulder. ‘C’mon Ernie, let’s get you ter the hospital wing and get yer sorted out.’ He shot a look at Hermione. ‘I’ll be righ’ back. Stay ‘ere, you should be alrigh’, nobody wonder off…’

He and Ernie headed away out of the forest. Everyone stared at Hermione.

‘What the fuck, Granger?’ one of the Hufflepuff boys said. He’d been in Ernie’s group and appeared to be his friend.

Hermione felt a little nervous about this confrontation, but stood her ground. ‘He needed to shut up – I thought I’d make him.’

‘Why? Because he was making a good point?’ the boy retorted.

‘He was talking complete shit,’ Ron said, joining Hermione’s side. He was a lot taller than the Hufflepuff boy and seemed to be standing at his full height, puffing his chest out. Hermione smiled. She hadn’t been sure whether Ron cared for Remus all that much, but clearly he did.

‘I think he was talking a lot of sense,’ a Hufflepuff girl said suddenly. 

‘Then you clearly know nothing,’ Hermione spat, her anger rising again. 

‘Oh, and you know everything, don’t you?’ the boy said sarcastically, earning a couple of laughs from the others in his house. ‘You act like you’re so fucking clever, but you’re so far up your own ar-’

A burst of light cracked from a wand, a brilliant light heading straight for the boy. Ron had shot this time, casting a jelly legs hex – the Hufflepuff fell to the ground, dropping his wand as he did so. He managed to grab it and held it up at the redhead, but then Harry had shouted a disarming spell, and the wand flew into the forest.

And then the entire class descended into absolute chaos. Fang sprinted away out of the forest towards Hagrid’s hut, whining as he did so; the explosions of spells and shields had caused a great mass of noise and blinding light. Many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs followed Fang away from the fight but about half remained, taking sides and positions and shouting jinxes and hexes at the other house. Harry was focusing mainly on his speciality, the disarming spell, which rendered much of the opposition harmless; Ron was so heated up he was shooting fairly clumsy spells but with great ferocity, not actually hurting anyone but certainly terrifying them; Hermione was drawing fantastic shields across herself and the Gryffindors, blocking almost every spell that came at them; almost every burst of light bounced off the powerful shield and deflected upwards into the air.

The commotion had not gone unnoticed and, after only a few minutes, the spells were forcibly stopped. Hermione’s shield dropped.

‘WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?’ McGonagall shrieked. She cast a powerful lumos spell which illuminated the clearing, revealing the scene; five Gryffindors – Dean and Seamus had elected to stay – stood opposite the five Hufflepuffs, which were in a much dire state than the former. The Hufflepuff boy had crawled on his belly to lean against a tree, his legs still useless; the Hufflepuff girl was babbling incoherently and her feet were stuck to the floor; one girl was completely bald and had sprouted enormous teeth, and was sobbing hysterically as a result; Hannah Abbott was hiding behind a tree; another boy was sporting a dazzling pair of antlers.

The fact that all the Gryffindors were looking rather healthy was ultimately criminalising. McGonagall gaped at the ten of them in utter shock. 

♦ ♦ ♦

The Hufflepuffs had been taken to the infirmary where they were seen to. Meanwhile, the five Gryffindors were taken to McGonagall’s office.

‘Sorry we got you into this,’ Ron muttered to Dean and Seamus as they trailed behind McGonagall. Their heads were bowed but that didn’t stop the two of them from grinning mischievously.

‘S’alright, mate,’ Dean whispered.

‘We wanted to have your back,’ Seamus added.

‘QUIET!’ McGonagall shrilled. As soon as they entered her office she slammed the door with a brisk flick of her wand and she turned to glare at all of them. She was burning with fury.

‘I am absolutely disgusted!’ she spat. ‘You have put shame on my house! What on earth do you have to say for yourselves?’

‘In our defence, miss,’ Ron said quietly, ‘just because we were better than the Hufflepuffs doesn’t mean we did anything worse than what they did. They tried to attack us, they just didn’t do very well.’

Dean and Seamus sniggered. McGonagall looked as though she were about to spontaneously combust with anger.

‘How dare you stand in my office and mock me!’ she shrieked. 

‘I wasn’t-’

‘Quiet!’ She snapped. ‘I’ve come to expect a certain mischief, a certain disregard for the rules, from you three,’ she nodded at Harry, Ron and Hermione, ‘but I am frankly shocked and disgusted that you two managed to involve yourselves in this.’ Dean and Seamus glanced at each other and then stared at the floor, unable to look their professor in the eye.

‘And you three,’ she continued, glaring at them with eyes like fire. ‘Mischief and troublemaking doesn’t even come close to this. This is grounds for your expulsion!’

Hermione swallowed a lump that in her throat. Expulsion. She couldn’t be expelled, nobody could. This had all been her fault. She’d shot the first spell that had set this whole thing off. Everyone was here because of her. 

‘Hermione,’ she said suddenly, her voice lower and more serious. Hermione looked up from the floor at McGonagall and felt her heart fall to her feet. McGonagall wasn’t looking at her angrily. She just looked hurt. Disappointed.

‘I have to say, I didn’t expect this from you especially,’ she said quietly, shaking her head. ‘And from what I have heard, it is you that is primarily responsible.’

Harry scowled. ‘She was defending Professor Lupin!’ he said fiercely. ‘Your colleague, friend, ex-student, Professor Lupin!’

McGonagall glared at him. ‘Did Mr. Macmillan have Professor Lupin at wand-point, Mr. Potter?’ she asked.

‘You should’ve heard what he was saying,’ Harry said furiously. ‘I bet he conveniently left that part out of his little story…’

‘It doesn’t matter what he said!’ McGonagall cried. ‘All that matters is that you all are seventeen – some of you eighteen,’ she looked at Hermione, who winced. ‘You are adults and you are behaving like petulant children!’

As she was shouting Dumbledore entered the room. He looked relatively calm, much to the Gryffindors’ relief, and was peering at Hermione in particular as he approached McGonagall. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and shot her a glance over his half-moon glasses. She breathed in and out and nodded.

‘Now,’ Dumbledore said, examining the five standing shamefully before him. ‘I’d like to inform all of you that the five Hufflepuffs left the infirmary without a scratch just moments after entering. Your spells were incredibly tame.’

‘It doesn’t matter what spells they used!’ McGonagall snapped. ‘They were fighting, against the rules, unsupervised, in the forest-’

‘Minerva,’ Dumbledore said, firmly but gently. She pursed her lips.

‘I do not believe this to be of great severity,’ he continued. ‘Though, I am curious in discussing the underlying cause of this conflict, which I do believe to be far more serious than the outcome.’

Hermione chewed her lip and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her cloak. 

‘Professor,’ McGonagall said, ‘they simply cannot get away with this without punishment! What example will that set for those in the lower years?’

Dumbledore pondered this for a moment. ‘After I have spoken to each of them, and they have recounted their side of the story, I shall decide on a punishment, if necessary, Professor McGonagall.’

McGonagall huffed. The boys and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.


	6. Detention

Dean was interviewed by Dumbledore first, then Seamus. Their meetings with Dumbledore were incredibly brief and both left his office wearing a look of great relief. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood outside the staircase that led to his office, waiting wordlessly to be summoned. Harry looked fairly confident, Ron less so, and Hermione just wanted to run away.

Dean hung around until Seamus returned from his office.

‘What’d you get?’ Seamus asked the other boy.

‘Week’s detention,’ Dean said, grinning. ‘You?’

‘Same!’

They smirked at each other and wished the other three good luck before striding away, laughing about their relatively good fortune.

‘Somehow I don’t think it’ll be quite as good for us,’ Ron said solemnly.

Harry shook his head. ‘No. Dumbledore will understand.’

Suddenly the staircase started spiralling downwards, and McGonagall appeared. ‘Mr. Weasley.’

Ron gulped and entered the staircase, standing as far away as physically possible from the professor. She was still glaring furiously, though had seemed to calm down at least a little bit.

Ron was in Dumbledore’s office for five minutes. When he emerged he looked considerably more relaxed.

‘It isn’t too bad,’ he murmured. He eyed the staircase for a moment before continuing. ‘McGonagall’s still a bit intense but Dumbledore’s alright. Week’s detention. I’m helping Trelawney,’ he sighed. ‘Could be worse, I guess.’

‘We’ll see you in the common room,’ Harry said. Ron nodded and headed off.

Harry was next. His meeting was little longer – ten minutes – but left looking just as pleased as the boys before him. ‘Same as everyone else, really,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Week detention, cleaning windows. See you.’

Then it was Hermione’s turn. McGonagall appeared and summoned her and Hermione stepped into the staircase and waited for it to reach his office. Her heart was pounding furiously. Everyone else had said there was nothing to worry about, but there was a chance that she was at greater risk. She, after all, had thrown the first spell. She had dragged everyone into this mess; her fellow Gryffindors had accompanied her out of loyalty.

McGonagall waited outside as Hermione stepped into Dumbledore’s office. It was wonderfully lavish; huge and elaborate with hundreds of golden, sparkling trinkets filling glass cabinets to the brim and all manner of magical objects scattered about the room. Fawkes sat atop his perch, eyeing Hermione curiously and ruffling his scarlet feathers. Dumbledore sat at his desk. He smiled at the witch and held out his hand, encouraging her to sit at the chair opposite. She obliged nervously.

‘Now,’ he said, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘I want you to know that there is no need to be concerned, Miss Granger.’

Hermione nodded and exhaled deeply, trying to relax. He offered her a sherbet lemon, which she politely declined.

‘I have asked your classmates, including those in Hufflepuff, about the details of what exactly happened earlier on today,’ he said. ‘Your friends are incredibly loyal, Miss Granger.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘They didn’t try and lie for me, did they?’

‘No, no,’ he said, smiling. ‘They simply defended your actions, arguing you were utterly justified in what you did. I would, however, like to hear your side of the story, if you care to indulge me.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Yes, of course, Professor. Hagrid was talking about the creatures that inhabit the Forbidden Forest,’ she began. ‘And Ernest Macmillan started asking about… werewolves.’

Dumbledore nodded and encouraged her to continue.

‘He just wouldn’t drop the subject. He asked about Professor Lupin,’ she said quietly. ‘He said terrible, prejudiced, ignorant things, and when he started to ask these really… inappropriate questions I just… lost my temper. I didn’t want to listen to it anymore so I cast a tongue-tying curse,’ she said. She tried to sound as guilty as possible, but as she relived the circumstances the anger was starting to rise again, and she suddenly didn’t feel as shameful as she had just a few minutes ago.

‘And then Hagrid led away Mr. Macmillan to Madam Pomfrey to reverse the spell, leaving you unsupervised.’

Hermione nodded. ‘But this isn’t Hagrid’s fault,’ she insisted. ‘He was just doing his job, undoing what I had done. He trusted us to be left by ourselves and we betrayed that trust. This isn’t his fault, it’s mine.’

Dumbledore plucked a sherbet lemon from the bowl and sucked on it with a thoughtful expression. ‘And what happened after Hagrid left?’

‘That Hufflepuff boy – Jason? James? I can’t remember – he confronted me. Ron backed me up and cast a jelly-legs hex when the Hufflepuff boy got angrier. Then everything got a bit mad and… then McGonagall found us.’

‘And this all began because your classmates were talking about Professor Lupin in such a way that you were… uncomfortable with?’

Hermione nodded. ‘I suppose.’

Dumbledore thought for a moment, the sherbet lemon clicking against his teeth. ‘It seems that your fellow Gryffindors – Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in particular – involved themselves in this conflict because of their fierce loyalty to you. You, however, seem to have held different motivations for your actions.’

Hermione listened anxiously, wondering where this was going.

‘You appear to be standing up for what you believe in,’ he said. ‘And for that, I cannot condemn you. However, a punishment of some kind must… ah, Professors.’

Hermione turned in her seat to see Professor Snape and Professor Lupin stood by the door. Professor Snape was watching Hermione interestedly, though with his usual stony expression. Professor Lupin just looked bemused.

‘Professor Snape, I was wondering whether you would be able to take on Miss Granger for two weeks’ worth of detention,’ Professor Dumbledore said cheerily. 

‘Detention?’ Remus asked, confused. ‘Why, what happened?’

‘Ah, yes, that’s why I summoned you here, Professor Lupin,’ Dumbledore said. ‘Since you’ve been out of Hogwarts for the day, you wouldn’t have heard…’

‘She attacked a group of pupils, I believe,’ Snape drawled. 

‘What?’

‘Just a moment, Professor Lupin,’ Dumbledore smiled. ‘Severus, I’m sure you have a requirement for some assistance?’

Snape considered Hermione for a moment. ‘Whatever,’ he said finally. ‘Is that all?’

‘Not quite,’ Dumbledore said. ‘If you could wait outside my office for a moment, I have to fill Professor Lupin here in on some information.’

Hermione’s chest tightened. On her wrist, her bracelet was flashing orange. She wasn’t completely sure, but it seemed to do that every time she was anxious about something.

‘Your detentions start tomorrow,’ Dumbledore said, nodding at Hermione. ‘Thank you for your honesty, Miss Granger. You may leave now.’

Hermione mumbled a thank you and started from her seat. Remus offered her a look of concern as she passed him. When she passed Snape, he simply cocked an amused eyebrow. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said.

Two weeks detention with Snape, she thought. It could have been worse. But it could have been a whole lot better, too.

♦ ♦ ♦

After her lessons for the day ended she rushed for the dungeons – she didn’t want to keep Snape waiting, and end up with another week of scrubbing cauldrons.

When she arrived she knocked at the already-ajar door and entered cautiously. Snape emerged from his office, a long scroll of parchment in his hand. She could just about make out his scrawly handwriting scribbled all over it from the other side of the room. She smiled as politely and as respectfully as she possibly could. 

‘Evening, Professor,’ she said.

‘Don’t bother, Granger,’ he muttered, thrusting the parchment onto a desk. ‘There is the list of duties you will complete over the next fortnight. Be quiet. Don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary. These two weeks will go swiftly if you don’t try and make friends.’

Hermione nodded and headed over to the table. She flattened out the scroll and scanned the list. None of it was particularly horrible. Maybe these two weeks wouldn’t be too bad after all.

First on the list was restocking Snape’s larder of potions to maximum. She headed over to the stock with a piece of parchment and a quill and began to note down how many of each potion she needed to brew. She ended up with a rather hefty list; at least it would keep her busy.

Snape had already set up a cauldron for her to begin. She started on a batch of Cure for Boils potions, crushing some snake fangs into a mortar. 

‘I hear you were defending Lupin’s honour,’ Snape said suddenly.

Hermione did not look up from her workbench. He had made it quite clear he was not interested in ‘making friends’. That could only mean he was trying to agitate her.

‘I simply… disagreed with what some people were saying about him,’ she muttered.

‘Disagreed is a slight understatement,’ Snape said, his voice dripping with some bizarre amusement. ‘From what I hear, you went positively feral with aggression. My, the werewolf would be proud.’

Hermione breathed in and out, counting the seconds. ‘Well, you know what it’s like, through the grapevine,’ she said. ‘A lot of exaggeration and hyperbole and enhancement.’

‘Though, you do not deny you attacked a student?’ 

Hermione grimaced. ‘Well, yes, I did, I suppose, but I wouldn’t say atta-'

‘Quite hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?’ 

The snake fangs in her mortar had been ground to some incredibly fine dust, and at the rate she was going, she’d grind away a hole in the mortar too. She added them to her cauldron and started on slicing some Pungous Onions, driving the knife through them sharply and precisely.

‘Are you referring to Draco Malfoy?’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you think a tongue tying curse is slightly different to – to – to whatever he did to me?’

Snape fell silent for a few seconds. ‘You both let your anger overwhelm you. You are not as dissimilar as you believe you are.’

‘A tongue-tying curse!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why is everyone acting like I used an unforgivable curse on him? For as long as I’ve been here, people have got into magical fights all the time, just last month Draco and his gang got into one, but I never heard about that again!’

Snape raised his eyebrows. ‘Malfoy? When was this?’

‘The 19th of September,’ she said curtly, jamming the knife through a particularly thick onion. ‘But of course he doesn’t get into trouble! I don’t see him here, brewing bloody Cure for Boils po- aagh!’

The knife she’d been using had apparently gone rogue. She’d managed to cleanly slice off the tip of her left thumb, which was now bleeding profusely. She backed away from the workbench and stumbled into the table behind her, gripping her thumb in her right hand, the blood dribbling out of her fist and dripping onto the stone floor.

Snape stalked towards her and drew his wand. ‘Don’t panic, Granger,’ he muttered. ‘Hold out your hand.’

She did so. 

‘Episkey.’ 

Her thumb felt hot for a second, then very cold. She examined the wound. It had completely knitted over and looked as good as new, though slightly pink. 

‘Tergeo,’ he muttered. The blood on the floor and her hands was siphoned away by his wand and disappeared. 

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled. 

‘Honestly, Granger, my first years are capable of preparing this potion without killing themselves.’

She sighed and made her way back to her workbench, slicing the onions with more care this time. She winced when she pressed her thumb into the vegetable – it was still a little tender.

‘What repercussions did Malfoy face, after he cast that spell at me?’ she asked bravely. 

‘I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Miss Granger.’

Hermione put the knife down and glared at her professor. ‘Oh, I think it is. I don’t know if you remember, but he used dark magic, and almost killed-’

‘It wouldn’t have killed you,’ Snape snapped. ‘He didn’t cast it nearly well enough for it to do any permanent damage.’

Hermione stared at her professor blankly. 

‘You know the spell he used,’ she said flatly.

‘Yes.’

She looked at him. ‘Well?’

‘What difference will it make if I tell you?’ he growled. ‘Will it change anything that happened?’

‘Why are you protecting him?’ she said, almost shouting now. ‘I was grateful to you for saving me! You should have heard the things people were saying about you, and I defended you-’

‘Sectumsempra,’ he spat. ‘There. You know. Has that made any difference? Has your life changed dramatically? Are you a changed woman? No?’

She contemplated this. Sectumsempra. She’d never heard it before in her life. 

‘Why have I never heard of a spell that Draco Malfoy used?’ she asked, her voice lowering with suspicion. 

Snape rolled his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t fall back into his skull. ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Granger, that you do not, in fact, know everything?’

‘No,’ she said bluntly. ‘And I also know you’re hiding something.’

‘Speculate all you like, Granger,’ Snape hissed. ‘But that is all your meaningless accusations shall remain. Speculation. Now get on with that-’

He stopped. 

‘Am I interrupting?’ 

Hermione turned and saw Remus stood there, looking back and forth at her and Snape with a look of great concern. She had never felt so relieved to see him. 

‘Yes,’ Snape snapped. ‘What do you want?’

‘I was rather hoping to pick up my wolfsbane for the week, actually,’ he said, nodding at a crate of deep blue potions that sat on Snape’s desk. ‘And, if you would be so kind, I was hoping to steal Hermione away from you for a moment.’

‘Miss Granger has not even completed one task,’ Snape said furiously. 

‘Perhaps she’d get more done if you weren’t so busy shouting at her,’ Remus said matter-of-factly. Hermione suddenly felt rather unnerved. She had grown used to Snape’s fury over the last seven years; he shouted and hissed and snarled like a dog and she’d been at the receiving end of so much anger she wasn’t that bothered by it now. Remus retained his cool demeanour, his quiet voice not wavering in the slightest, and was still somehow so much scarier.

Snape pursed his thin lips. He sent the crate of wolfsbane flying through the air at the other man, who trapped it in some kind of spell with an effortless wave of his hand. He lifted the crate into his arms and nodded at Hermione, who couldn’t have left faster.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked worriedly.

‘Oh, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,’ she breathed. 

‘I thought I’d wait until your detention to pick this up,’ he whispered. They still had not reached the top of the dungeon stairs and Snape had notoriously superhuman hearing.

‘Thanks for saving me,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve really had enough of accidentally getting into these arguments, lately.’

Remus smirked. ‘That’s rather what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I guess… I guess Dumbledore… filled you in, then.’

Remus hummed. He looked conflicted. ‘I’m not totally sure how I feel, Hermione.’

‘Maybe you could borrow my bracelet?’ 

He chuckled and smiled warmly at her, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I’m… very grateful, and honoured, that you felt so strongly,’ he began. His voice was full of caution. ‘And I’m obviously not feeling wonderful about what the other students said, but I have to say, I’m used to it. But you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger because of… me.’

‘I was hardly in danger,’ she said confidently. ‘It was just a tiff. Everyone’s making such a huge deal out of it – and I didn’t see Draco getting this kind of treatment after what he did to me,’ she added bitterly.

Remus nodded, his features hardening. ‘He certainly didn’t get two weeks of detention with dear Severus,’ he murmured. ‘And that’s another thing. I feel… guilty. That you’re stuck in there because of me.’

‘It was my fault,’ she said reassuringly. ‘It was my choice, my actions. I lost my temper.’

‘Still,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll, uh, try and get you out of it as much as possible.’

Hermione couldn’t stop herself from beaming. ‘Thank you, Remus. Although, a bit of time with Snape won’t be a bad thing. I think he knows more than he’s letting on about Draco’s spell. He told me what it was, actually.’

They entered Remus’s rooms. Hermione made sure the door was closed before she spoke again.

‘It was called Sectumsempra,’ she said quietly.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. He placed the crate on the table and tapped his wand on a teapot, presumably heating it up. As he poured out two cups he chewed his lip thoughtfully.

‘I almost… recognise it,’ he said, sounding uncertain. ‘But I don’t know why. I was never taught it… I don’t think I’ve studied it… perhaps I read it somewhere.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Maybe Professor Snape can enlighten us,’ she said, slumping into her chair. ‘Oh, do you think he expects me to go back?’

‘Who cares,’ Remus shrugged. ‘You’ve got a fortnight stuck there.’

She hummed and took the tea from him happily, taking a sip. She was always so utterly content here, so at peace. She looked around his charming little office. His desk – already messy with students’ essays and lesson plans – was covered in empty mugs stained with the remnants of rogue tea leaves and dozens of chocolate wrappers. The windows were beginning to frost over in the evenings, and so Remus had lit the fireplace, which was crackling softly in the corner. Some slow music was playing quietly on his record player. She always hated leaving his office, to her noisy common room or dormitory full of people she didn’t really like that much. 

‘I don’t want to leave,’ she said. ‘I never do.’

Remus’s eyes widened in apparent surprise and she immediately regretted letting her thoughts slip out into words. Why had she said that? It was the truth, of course, but it was probably a very odd thing to say to a teacher.

‘You never want to leave Snape’s dungeon?’ he asked, staring at her in utter shock. He’d misunderstood.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair and stared down at the teacup in her hand. ‘I mean here,’ she muttered.

‘Oh.’

The two fell into silence. ‘I don’t… particularly like it when you leave,’ he said quietly.

She looked at him. She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks, and she wasn’t sure whether the fact that he appeared to be suffering from the same problem was reassuring or not.

‘It gets a bit lonely around here,’ he added hastily. ‘And you know, my classes are shrinking at a frankly alarming rate so I’m hardly ever teaching, and I can’t visit Sirius as much as I’d like to because I don’t want to arouse any suspicion, and around the full moon I don’t come into contact with anyone for days…’ his voice trailed off. Perhaps he realised he’d been rambling.

‘I could join you,’ she said carefully. ‘When you… transform.’ 

He shook his head immediately. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Why?’ she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. ‘It’s not dangerous, is it? You retain full consciousness.’

‘Well…’ he frowned. ‘I don’t want you to have to witness me transform. It’s very unpleasant.’

‘I’ve seen you transform before,’ she insisted. ‘That night, in my third year.’

He sighed. ‘Then you remember my other form,’ he said. Hermione almost winced at the self-hatred filling his voice. ‘Why would you want to submit yourself to that again?’

‘Well, you weren’t on wolfsbane that night,’ she said quietly. ‘And you’ve said yourself, when your friends accompanied you to the Shrieking Shack during your transformations, they were so much easier to deal with.’

He just kept shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to put you through that again.’

‘It would be different this time... and even then, it wasn’t as bad as you think.’

He shut his eyes, his face falling into his hand. ‘I almost killed you. And Harry, and Ron. I injured Sirius. I’m the reason Pettigrew escaped. The reason Sirius never cleared his name, the reason Harry’s still at risk from You-Know-Who. Tell me, Hermione, how isn’t that bad?’

‘You’re not the reason for any of that,’ she said bluntly. ‘Harry had his mind set on killing Sirius all year. If you hadn’t arrived that night, who’s to say he wouldn’t have? It’s Pettigrew’s fault that Sirius never cleared his name, not yours, and nobody could have anticipated his escape. And Harry…’ she took a deep breath. ‘Harry would still have been at risk. He’s at risk until we know we’ve beaten You-Know-Who.’

Remus didn’t say anything. He just kept his face in his hands.

‘If it makes it easier for you, if it would help at all… I’d like to be there next week.’

Remus sighed. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Hermione nodded. She knew she wouldn’t get a definitive answer from him tonight, but somehow, she suspected he’d eventually give in.


	7. The Skiving Snackbox

On Wednesday the 28th of October, the Gryffindors were spending their afternoon in their common room. Ron and Harry were playing chess on the floor next to the crackling fireplace – a game that often got rather heated – and Hermione was curled up on an armchair catching up on some homework. She’d allowed herself to fall behind after spending all her evenings in Snape’s dungeon, or, if she was very lucky, hiding in Remus’s office.

Hermione almost leapt out of her skin when Ron bellowed out a thunderous cheer, wallowing in his victory. Harry flipped over the board furiously and crossed his arms over his chest, shouting over Ron’s jeering that ‘this game is stupid, anyway’.

‘Could you keep it down?’ she said, frowning at the boys. Ron pulled a face at her. 

‘We’re celebrating,’ he shrugged. ‘No more cleaning windows for Harry. No more polishing crystal balls for me. No more Trelawney telling me all the horrible things that are going to happen to me this week.’ 

‘You never did drown, did you?’ Harry asked sarcastically. 

Ron laughed. ‘Nah, but I did consider drowning myself after about ten minutes with her,’ he muttered. 

Hermione huffed. They’d been rubbing in the fact their detentions had finished the day before as soon as they had the opportunity. Hermione still had a whole other week to suffer in Snape’s dungeon.

‘Sorry, Hermione,’ Harry said. ‘How’s Snape been?’

‘Okay,’ she said, shrugging and turning her focus back to her homework.

The truth was, he’d been oddly quiet since that first day. Perhaps he felt that he’d let too much slip by telling Hermione about the Sectumsempra spell. Maybe he even felt bad that he’d got into such a heated argument with her, but that was unlikely. Whatever the reason, he’d said very little and very much kept his distance. He only ever put his foot down whenever Remus sauntered in with some half-baked excuse to drag Hermione out of the classroom. One evening he’d spent a solid ten minutes trying to convince Snape that a sphinx was blocking the way into his rooms and Hermione was only one equipped to deal with its riddles. Hermione had been unable to contain her laughter and Snape had ended up shouting the other man out of the classroom.

As she smiled to herself at the memory, she suddenly realised something. She’d managed to convince Remus to let her accompany him during the full moon – which happened to be tonight. But she hadn’t yet worked out how to escape Snape’s detention, and there was no way he’d just let her. She couldn’t tell the truth, but she couldn’t think of a good enough reason to get out of it.

She looked at her two friends, who had moved onto a game of Exploding Snap. Before her sat the two biggest troublemakers and rule-breakers in Hogwarts since the Weasley twins, and there they were, an untapped resource of mischief. She couldn’t tell them she was helping Remus transform tonight – but she could still pick their brains to help her skive detention.

‘Actually,’ she said suddenly, trying to sound as sad as possible. ‘He’s been horrible. I don’t think I can bring myself to another day of it,’ she said dramatically.

‘Don’t go, Hermione,’ Ron said, stuffing his mouth with some sweets from Honeydukes. ‘Let the greasy git scrub his own cauldrons.’

‘Oh, I wish I could, but he’ll practically search the castle looking for me unless I have a good reason to not be there,’ she sighed.

‘Too bad your brothers aren’t here,’ Harry said wistfully. ‘They’d know exactly what to do. Got me out of more Potions lessons than I can count.’

‘And me out of Divination,’ Ron added. Then he turned to Hermione. ‘Do you have any of those sweets left my brothers sent you, for your birthday? What about them?’

Hermione blinked. She didn’t want to admit she’d never even unwrapped their gifts – she’d been far too scared and then she’d totally forgotten she even had them. But if it was a Skiving Snackbox…

‘I’ll go check!’ she said excitedly, jumping to her feet and heading up to her dorm. She rushed to her trunk at the foot of her bed and rummaged around. There they were – two parcels, neatly wrapped in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes paper, still unopened. Crookshanks watched her curiously as she tore at the first package. There it was – the infamous Skiving Snackbox. Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougat, Puking Pastilles…

‘Thank you, Weasleys!’ she said, grinning at the half-Kneazle and hugging the gift to her chest. Crookshanks purred and leapt down from the bed, sitting atop the other parcel, which was still unopened. She pulled it out from under the cat, earning an irritable meow, and unwrapped it.

She was met with a violently pink box labelled ‘WonderWitch – Ultimate Edition’. Hermione pursed her lips. The WonderWitch range of products was filled with love potions, cosmetics and other trivial little oddities for women, and Hermione actually found it all rather insulting. She placed the pink package back into her trunk and stuffed the Snackbox into her satchel. She was getting out of detention tonight.

♦ ♦ ♦

After Ancient Runes, her final lesson of the day, she decided to slip a note under the door of Remus’s office before heading to her detention, where she’d feign her illness and escape as soon as she could. As much as she did enjoy Remus’s attempts at saving her from Snape’s clutches in the dungeon, she didn’t want him to burst in and accidentally ruin her plan. When she reached his rooms she crouched down and slipped the scrap of parchment under the door.

 

Remus,

I’ve hatched a cunning plan to get out of detention tonight – I want to be there for you as early as I can, and lately Snape’s been keeping me stuck there far too late. Please don’t come to the dungeons tonight as it’s very unlikely I’ll be there.

Hermione

 

Her heart was pounding as she approached the top of the stone stairs. She decided she’d take a few Fever Fudges at first, and then she’d top it off with a couple of Puking Pastilles. She made sure to place the causers in her right pocket and the cures in her left. She didn’t want to be throwing up all night, after all.

She elected not to show up with her full blown symptoms but develop them early on – if Snape realised what she was up to he may very well extend her detention to a month. She headed down the steps and into his classroom, where he was sat at his desk marking essays. He looked up and offered her a curt nod before returning to his work.

She stood over her cauldron and looked at the list of ingredients she needed to make a batch of Potions for Dreamless Sleep. She headed to his stock, her back to him, and coughed into her hand. She slipped a Fever Fudge into her mouth and quickly swallowed.

‘Granger,’ Snape said suddenly.

‘Mm?’ she hummed, her mouth still a little full of fudge. She turned and looked at him innocently, but could already feel a sickly, tingling heat rising in her neck and head. 

‘Perhaps it was…’ he said, seemingly struggling to articulate his thoughts. ‘…unfair. Of me. To compare you and Mr. Malfoy.’

Hermione stared at him in shock. He wasn’t looking up from his desk but she was sure this was something along the lines of an apology. But Snape didn’t apologise. He certainly wasn’t very good at it – he looked as though he’d swallowed a few Puking Pastilles himself.

‘The spell he used is… incredibly dangerous, on a far greater level of severity to that of a mere tongue-tying curse. Perhaps it was wrong of me to undermine your experience of the spell.’

Wrong? Unfair? This was the most apologetic and humble she’d ever seen him. Of course, compared to normal people this wasn’t much of an apology – but for Snape, this was utterly remarkable.

When she didn’t respond he looked up at her expectedly. ‘Uh, it’s okay. I understand, Professor,’ she murmured. Her head felt heavy and her vision was beginning to go funny. She grabbed onto a shelf to try and remain vertical, rubbing her head. These things were effective, there was no doubt about that.

‘I’m glad you, er, see it that way,’ he said. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you…alright?’

‘Feeling a bit woozy,’ she mumbled, staggering over to a table. Snape stood and approached her, stooping down slightly to examine her.

‘You’re sweating, Granger,’ he said. ‘You’ve probably caught something. I’m sure I’ve something to help…’

Hermione winced. She didn’t want him to bloody cure her, she wanted him to send her out of the classroom to the infirmary or something. When he turned his back on her and headed towards his stock of potions she stuffed her hand into her right pocket and crammed the pastilles into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could. 

These were incredibly fast-acting. She silently congratulated the Weasley twins on their successful products as she sprinted over to the empty cauldron and violently puked into it, doing her best to push her great mass of hair away from the downpour. Snape twisted on his heel and groaned, stepping towards her cautiously.

‘I better escort you to Madam Pomfrey,’ he muttered. 

No, no, she didn’t want that. She tried to tell him that, while she was very grateful for his kind offer, she was fully capable of escorting herself to the hospital wing and anyway, she didn’t want to impose – but that was all very difficult to say while vomiting into a cauldron.

‘God, Granger, are you pregnant or something?’ he said. She tried to shoot him a disapproving look but couldn’t quite manage it.

Suddenly, she was blessed with a small window of opportunity in which she stopped vomiting. ‘I’d just like to – eugh – go back to my – dormitory and – ugghh!’ she threw her head forward and puked again. ‘…Rest.’

‘Like that?’ he said, wincing. She nodded, looking at him helplessly, her eyes streaming with tears. He sighed.

‘Just – just take this,’ he said. He cast a swift accio and a steel bucket flew across the room. He passed it to her and she nodded a thank you, stumbling to her feet and rushing out of the dungeon.

She had emerged victorious, but she really didn’t feel like it. She rummaged around her pocket for the cures and ate them as fast as she could. They were considerably slower-acting than the causers. She wondered if Fred and George had done that on purpose as she groaned into the bucket.

♦ ♦ ♦

She was feeling much better by the time she reached Remus’s office, but still felt a little nauseous. Perhaps it was the sweets. Perhaps it was the fact she was going to keep her professor company whilst he transformed into a werewolf tonight.

She cast a quick tergeo and the rather unappealing fluids in her bucket disappeared. She still felt as though she were a bit clammy and pale, but at least she wasn’t throwing up anymore. She knocked on Remus’s door and waited patiently for him to open it.

He took considerably longer to answer this time; all the while, paranoid thoughts of abandonment were rushing through Hermione’s head. Was he hiding in there until she went away? Had he gone to the Shrieking Shack to transform with Sirius? Had he –

He opened the door and gave her a weak smile, standing aside to let her in. ‘Why do you have that bucket?’ he asked.

‘Long story,’ she chuckled, dropping it by the door. Remus nodded and summoned a tray from his kitchen area. 

‘You don’t have to do this, Hermione,’ he said quietly. 

‘I want to,’ she said, putting her bag by her chair and smiling up at the man. He looked as ill as she, but she knew the reason for his ailment.

‘Are you, uh, nervous?’ he said, fumbling with a pot of tea. She laughed and shook her head.

‘Oh, no, don’t worry, I’m just recovering from, um,’ she pulled open her satchel and rummaged around for the Weasley product. ‘These,’ she said finally. His eyes lingered on the ‘Skiving Snackbox’ label for a moment until it had dawned on him what she had done.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, smiling widely. Bizarrely, he looked impressed. ‘Wow, in Snape’s dungeon?’

She nodded, taking out a breath mint from her bag before she dropped it back onto the floor. 

‘Did he turn you into a toad?’

Hermione laughed. ‘He was very nice about it. Well, nice for Snape. It was annoying, actually, he kept wanting to help me and wouldn’t just let me leave.’

Remus raised his eyebrows. ‘Snape? Nice?’

‘Oh yes. Well, apart from this snarky comment about me being pregnant. Actually, just as my symptoms were setting in, he was apologising.’

Remus settled in the chair opposite her and looked at her sceptically. ‘And you’re absolutely sure you’ve got the right man?’ 

Hermione shrugged. ‘He was apologising about ‘undermining my experience of the spell’ by comparing me to Malfoy. I don’t know, maybe I should’ve stayed a little longer, seen what else he’d had to say – but I was already pretty ill by then.’

Remus hummed. ‘You’ve got another week to get your information out of him.’

She nodded and took the cup of tea, her thoughts wondering to her potions professor. She was certain there was more to this, but she would have to wait.

♦ ♦ ♦

They talked about nothing in particular for a little while, until Hermione noticed Remus was glancing anxiously at his timepiece and seemed to be growing paler.

‘How long now?’ she asked.

‘About four hours,’ he said, sighing. ‘In many ways, the waiting is the worst part.’

She nodded. She could sort of understand that. She found that the anticipation of an exam, for instance, was often worse than the exam itself. Though, she thought, exams are a bit different to transforming into a wolf every full moon.

‘Do you remember everything that happens?’ she asked suddenly, thinking about Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy. Supposedly werewolves, even without the influence of wolfsbane, later remember the entire night once they return to their human form.

‘Hmm,’ he hummed. ‘Sometimes it’s… fuzzy. It’s easier to recall the events of my transformation if I’ve taken my wolfsbane, but often that’s very uneventful. I tend to just curl up and sleep in the corner. If I’ve not taken my wolfsbane, however…’ he sighed. ‘It’s like… seeing through a shaky camera.’

‘Do you remember everything from that night?’

She didn’t have to specify what night. He knew exactly what she was talking about; that night in her third year, with Pettigrew.

He nodded solemnly. ‘Oh yes. That was a very strange night for me. It was the only time I’ve ever taken only six of my potions.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘Strange? How so?’

He chewed his lip a little as he spoke. ‘I need to take all seven potions to retain my mind. Taking six… it was almost like I was…’ his voice trailed off.

‘Like you were what?’

‘Like I – me, I mean, my human form – was fighting for control with the wolf. Usually it’s like I’m thrust into the back seat of a car in a straightjacket if I’m off wolfsbane. Unable to do anything but watch the wolf in the front seat. But that night… it was like I was in the passenger’s seat with one arm free.’

‘You mean…’ Hermione began, ‘you had some control?’

Remus sighed. ‘It’s hard to explain. I remember transforming, Sirius shouting at me… and then it started off as though I had control. I remember you, there, talking to me.’

Hermione nodded. ‘You looked quite timid, all things considered.’

He laughed. ‘And then the wolf overwhelmed me and all I wanted to do was… act on instinct.’

‘Do you remember me howling at you?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Well, the first time around I heard a howling noise, and when I went around the second time I realised it was me, so I howled at you to get your attention away from Harry.’

Hermione had explained her and Harry’s experience of the time turner to Remus before, so he wasn’t in total bemusement. However, something seemed to be confusing him.

‘Werewolves only respond to the call of their own kind,’ he said. ‘Not a human impersonating one.’

‘Well, I had been practising,’ Hermione said. Remus smiled, but looked unmistakeably bothered by this.

‘What did you think it had been?’

‘I thought…’ he shrugged. ‘In my werewolf form, I thought it was one of my kind, obviously. Afterwards I… thought it was one of the lupine offspring that live in the Forbidden Forest, which is why I went there.’

Hermione leant back in her chair and thought this through. She’d never read anything about this, though admittedly it probably wasn’t exactly a commonplace situation. 

♦ ♦ ♦

A few more hours passed and Remus was visibly growing more and more anxious. His impending transformation became a kind of elephant in the room, and he quickly changed the subject to something more trivial whenever she brought it up. Eventually, though, they simply had to acknowledge it.

‘So, er, is there anything I can do while it’s… happening?’

Remus shook his head. ‘I’d ask that you keep your distance. I’ve already cast the muffling charms – I don’t want to terrify the entire castle,’ he laughed, though it wasn’t all that funny. ‘Once I’ve transformed I usually like to sleep through the night. When dawn breaks I’ll change back.’

‘So I’ll leave in the morning?’

He barked out a laugh. ‘Hermione, you can leave whenever you like – you could leave now if you desire – but you’ll probably want to leave as soon as possible, trust me. As I’ve said, the transformation is a horrible thing to witness. I can’t ask you to stay.’

‘But the whole reason I’m here is to ease your transformations,’ she insisted. ‘If having company eases the second transformation too, then I want to be there.’

Remus looked terribly uncomfortable. Then he started to speak in a very low, quiet voice. ‘Hermione, many would argue that what we do – meet like this, talk like this – is inappropriate.’

‘But it’s just-’ 

He lifted his hand and shot her a look, and she fell silent.

‘Many more would argue that you knowing so much about my condition is inappropriate,’ he sighed. ‘And I can assure you, a great deal more would argue you staying the night in my rooms is very inappropriate.’

Hermione struggled to articulate her thoughts. A thousand arguments were rushing through her head, brilliant arguments. But eventually, all she could muster was, ‘who cares?’

Remus blinked at her. ‘Well, I… uh…’

‘Do you think it’s inappropriate?’ she asked.

‘Well…’

‘Because if you’re uncomfortable with me, then I’ll leave. But I want to be here for you, Remus,’ she said, rather matter-of-factly. 

He looked at her, as if searching for a response, but seemed to give up, and breathed a heavy sigh of defeat. 

‘Alright.’


	8. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Fairly graphic description of Remus's transformations here but I don't think it's too bad - just thought I'd let you know xx

Outside the night had overcome the day, a blanket of stars hanging over the earth and the moon shining brilliantly and beautifully in the sky. Hermione couldn’t help but admire it, though she knew it was the bane of her professor’s existence. It was an incredibly clear night and the two could practically count down the minutes until his transformation.

The record had ended and the fire had gone out, plummeting the office into silence and little light. Remus had removed his cloak, jumper, shoes and socks, and sat only in a shirt and trousers, curled up in his chair and staring out the window. She watched him. He looked oddly young, somehow. She often thought that his youth had escaped him, that he’d never had the opportunity to be young, but sometimes there were moments that were almost as though he’d reclaimed the years he’d lost.

‘Won’t your clothes rip up too?’ she asked, trying to break the silence. The quiet was almost always comfortable in his presence, but tonight it felt painful somehow. 

‘Mm. Nothing a repairing charm can’t handle.’ He glanced at his timepiece, which was sat in the middle of his palm ticking away. ‘Usually when I transform I don’t… you know… wear anything.’

Hermione reddened a little, and tried to push the thought out of her mind.

‘A few minutes now,’ she heard him say quietly, under his breath.

She’d already asked him repeatedly if there was anything she could do for him, but there wasn’t. He had ensured he’d consumed every last drop of the wolfsbane, and cleared a space in the room to allow a large wolf to take up residence in the room, and now it was a matter of waiting.

Suddenly, the moonlight pouring through the windows seemed a whole lot brighter. He stood almost immediately from his chair and entered the centre of the cleared space. Hermione stood and simply observed, feeling rather helpless. He was holding himself oddly; slightly hunched, his arms crossed tightly across his chest and grasping his elbows. His legs were shaking a little. His breathing was audible. His eyes were shut and he appeared to be counting under his breath to calm himself down. Hermione figured that, even after so many years of this, it never got easy. Perhaps this was the best it ever got for a werewolf.

‘It’ll be okay, Remus,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m here. It’s alright.’

He didn’t respond. But after a few moments, he wasn’t silent. Muffled cries escaped his lips as his entire body lurched forward and he was thrown onto all fours; his hands and feet were curling into huge paws, nails to thick, sharp claws; brown fur was sprouting from his body, and his clothes were torn and fell to his feet in shredded rags. His limbs were stretching and shifting, his head, his torso; his head was growing, a snout protruding forward, and through his snarling she could see a mass of long, sharp teeth. She could hear the ugly clicking and cracking of his bones breaking and shifting into new formations under his skin. A long tail appeared, and his eyes shone a pale amber instead of the dark blues she’d grown so acquainted with. The noises he was making now weren’t human. His cries had become a low growl, which grew louder and louder until he was howling, outstretched, head lunged backwards; then he was whimpering. 

Hermione knew then it would be safe to approach him. She stepped carefully towards him, one arm forward ready to touch him. He did not shy away from her, but was watching her with a great intensity; not hostility, not even fear, but with some indescribable caution and wariness. She placed her hand on the side of the wolf’s face and stroked him lightly. He closed his eyes.

She had completely forgotten how massive werewolves were. They were huge wolves, the size of horses. Remus had a shaggy light brown coat, the colour of his hair, and was particularly large as an adult male. But there was something undeniably human about them. She could still see a lot of emotion underlying the surface, somehow.

Remus let out a low, unaggressive growl and walked to the side of the room, where he collapsed onto the floor with an impressive thud and curled up to sleep. He was slumped in such a way that looked a bit miserable, even for a wolf. She watched him for a moment before looking about the room, wondering what to do.

‘Do you mind if I light the fire again?’ she asked him. It felt bizarre talking to a wolf as though he were human. But he was human, underneath all that fur. Hermione didn’t want to treat him differently when he was like this, but it was surprisingly difficult.

Remus made a noise that sounded somewhat agreeable. She nodded and headed to the hearth, crouching and muttering ‘incendio’ quietly. The fire jumped to life immediately, the flames lending a warm light to the room. She remained crouched and watched the fire crackle and spark for a while, a bit uncomfortable with the fact she could feel a massive wolf’s eyes on her.

It was incredibly late and she could feel herself tiring, but despite having lessons all day tomorrow she didn’t want to fall asleep yet – not until he had, at least. She paced about the room, trying to look natural all the while. She looked at Remus again. His eyes were half-shut but she was still the focus of his attention. A thought crossed her mind about the fact that he was watching her much like Crookshanks did.

‘What about the record player?’ she said. He looked at her. ‘Only quietly. It might be relaxing.’

Remus made a sighing noise that she could only interpret as indifference, so she shrugged and replaced the stylus on the record to play the songs from the beginning. She lowered the volume and sighed herself.

She hadn’t brought any pyjamas or clean clothes with her but she couldn’t leave. She was also unsure where to sleep. There was the armchair, but that would lend to aches and pains when she woke the next morning. He didn’t have a couch, but she didn’t feel it would be appropriate to attempt to transfigure any of his things into one without his voiced permission – and she wouldn’t be getting that now. It would also be horribly rude and presumptuous to take his bed for the night. The floor?

Remus continued to eye her with an air of interest and she found herself looking back. ‘I’m just realising I haven’t really thought this through at all,’ she laughed, sitting a little way away from him cross-legged on the floor. He snorted. She couldn’t help but smile. She was having a conversation with a wolf like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

She wasn’t certain he was expecting her to continue talking but she felt inclined to regardless. ‘I didn’t bring any pyjamas or clothes for tomorrow,’ she explained. ‘And I can’t leave and come back, obviously. And I’m, uh, not sure where to sleep. I might just read for the night and take an Invigoration Draught in the morning.’

Remus perhaps pondered this before standing with a heaving sigh and plodded past her. She stood and watched him. He was walking out of his office and into his bedroom, but remained stood in the doorway. He turned to look at her and she figured that he was expecting her to follow.

She’d never been inside his bedroom before. It wasn’t exactly how she had pictured it – though, admittedly, she’d not thought about it a whole lot. It was a relatively small room; a double bed sat in the centre, with a wooden frame, cream blankets and canopies hanging around it, in some heavy bronze-coloured material. A few unlit torches sat on the walls, but other than that and a rather plain clock, the walls were bare. Much like her own, a wooden trunk sat at the foot of the bed. A bedside table sat on the right side of the bed, on top of it a litter of chocolate wrappers, empty mugs and a couple of books, and a moderately sized chest of drawers stood on the right side of the room. Hermione entered the room first as Remus was having some difficulty squeezing through the doorframe.

Remus was still only partially in the room but was nudging the chest of drawers with his snout, snuffling slightly. She opened the drawer the wolf seemed particularly interested in and revealed a modest amount of folded clothes. There were a couple of old t-shirts, fraying and well-worn, and a few pairs of pyjama bottoms of the same state. He watched her expectedly. 

‘Oh, you don’t have to do that,’ she said, realising what he was offering. ‘It was silly of me to not bring my own things. I don’t want to impose.’

Remus ignored her and began to try and pull some of the clothes out with his teeth. Hermione tried not to wince at the sight of his long, sharp-looking fangs. He was struggling, however, and managed to drag out the entire drawer of clothes; they landed in a messy heap on the floor. Remus grumbled with frustration and slumped onto the floor. 

‘I’ll get that,’ she said, crouching to pick up and fold the clothes back into the drawer. Since he’d made the effort she picked out a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms and held them to her chest.

‘Where do you think I should, uh, sleep?’ she asked him. He stood again and she subconsciously stood back as he towered above her. He nudged the bed with his head.

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly,’ she said. ‘I’ll sleep on the chair or something, it’s alright.’

Remus huffed and backed out of the room. Hermione remained there to change out of her clothes and into his. Luckily, Remus was a slight man, quite slim and not especially tall. His clothes weren’t comically huge on her, but didn’t exactly fit either. Still, it would be better than sleeping in her uniform all night.

She held her clothes in her arms and walked back into his office. The wolf was now sniffing at the foot of a particular cupboard and clawing at its doors. She joined his side and opened it. There, a few blankets and pillows were stacked up. She smiled and thanked her professor, whose tail was wagging. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

She gathered most of the blankets and pillows and walked behind Remus to the clearing of the office. He slumped into his spot and curled up once more; she elected to create a makeshift bed on the floor a little way away from him. Before settling to sleep, she approached him and laid a blanket over him. It was just large enough to cover the width of his body.

He snorted at her and shifted slightly. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, trying to place the blanket comfortably over him. ‘I just thought you could use it so you’re decent when you change back.’

He seemed to comply and did not struggle. Hermione folded her own pile of clothes onto the armchair, and decided to cast a repair charm on the shredded remains of Remus’s clothes while she was at it. She then laid in her own muddle of blankets on the floor and closed her eyes.

♦ ♦ ♦

She was brutally awoken. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright. She took a split second to recall where she was and why. Across from her, a giant brown wolf was lying on its side, howling in agony. She could only watch as he shook horribly, his whole body quivering. She couldn’t hear his bones breaking and cracking above the noise of his crying and shrieking, but could see his flesh snapping back into his original form. He was becoming smaller, thinner, his fur was shrinking back and revealing pale skin, his tail disappeared, his features became more human, as did his shouts and cries. In a few minutes a very human Professor Lupin was laying in the place of the great wolf. He looked very tired. 

He sluggishly dragged the blanket over him to cover his body almost completely, including his face. He wasn’t yelling now, but she could hear him breathing hard and every so often a soft whimper would escape his lungs. 

Hermione realised it must be about five in the morning. The room was only dimly lit; the fire had gone out and the sun had not yet risen above the horizon, and even though her eyes had since adjusted she still could not see the whole room clearly. Through a crack in the curtains she could just make out the sky was lightly cloaked in pinkish clouds and it was lightly drizzling. It would have been a peaceful awakening, but her heart was still pounding from Remus’s transformation. He had shocked the exhaustion straight out of her, and now she was fully and utterly conscious.

Her professor, however, was silent and unmoving under his blanket, spare for his breathing and the slight rise and fall of his chest. She stretched out an ache in her back and wiped the dust from her eyes. She supposed he wouldn’t mind her using his shower. She took her uniform to his bathroom with her, glancing at the man one last time.

She intentionally took a long time under the hot downpour to give Remus enough time to fully wake and change. She towelled herself dry, slipped on her blouse, skirt and tights, and tried every spell she knew to tame her wild hair – a bit of a morning routine. When she re-entered his office, though, he was still hidden under the blanket. It was approaching half past six now, and breakfast would begin in an hour. 

She heated a kettle of water with her wand and prepared two cups of very strong tea, along with a couple of bars of chocolate she’d found stashed in a cupboard.

‘Morning,’ she heard him mumble from across the room.

She looked round and saw her professor sat somewhat upright, running his hands through his hair and gazing tiredly about the room. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes and smiled weakly at her. The blanket had fallen from his torso and cloaked him from the waist down. She felt her face redden with heat and tried not to let her eyes linger on his chest.

‘You made tea?’

She nodded and elected to carry to the tray to him. She placed it on the floor beside him and sat opposite, handing him a cup. He subconsciously held the blanket a little higher over himself as he took a sip and sighed in relief.

‘I have to say,’ he said, muttering into his cup, ‘that was the easiest transformation I’ve had in a very long time.’

Hermione gaped at him. ‘Easiest? It looked… agonising.’

Remus chuckled and cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘It was. But that was nothing compared to some full moons lately.’

‘Why are some worse than others?’ she asked.

Remus shrugged. ‘Never really found out for sure. It’s just always been that way. But company has always helped. Feeling alone makes it so much worse,’ he sighed. ‘And lately everyone has kept their distance from me for entire days around the full moon. Thank you, Hermione, for enduring what must have been a horrible night.’

Hermione shook her head at him. ‘It wasn’t horrible at all. It was my pleasure.’ She took another sip of tea and gazed idly at his collar bones. ‘It was very… interesting. Seeing you like that under the influence of wolfsbane.’

He grimaced and looked mildly embarrassed. ‘You don’t have to lie. I know it must have been incredibly… weird, talking to me when I was like that.’

Hermione laughed. ‘I’m not lying. It was weird, admittedly. But good weird.’ She snapped off a piece of chocolate from the bar and popped it in her mouth. ‘You have a very nice tail.’

He reddened and rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his tea. ‘What about my paws?’

She nodded vigorously. ‘And a lovely coat.’

He smiled widely, lightly rubbing his thigh.

‘Is your leg hurting again?’ she asked.

‘Mm. Happens around the full moon, like I said. It’s better today, though, probably because the transformation was so smooth.’

Smooth. Hermione felt an indescribable pity sit like a lump in her throat. What she had witnessed last night had not been smooth, or easy, at all. She didn’t want to think what it would be like on a bad day.

Remus cleared his throat slightly. ‘I don’t want to be rude, but could you, uh, turn around for a moment. As much as I’m enjoying this conversation it’d be rather hard to explain should somebody walk in at this moment.’ He glanced at the blanket over his lap.

Hermione blushed and nodded and swiftly stood and took a few steps forward, her back to the man. She gently rocked back and forth on her heels while she listened to him get up and head to the shower. She took the time he was there to fold the blankets with her wand and send them flying to the cupboard across the room, pillows in tow, and to restore the original arrangement of furniture.

He emerged dried and dressed at about seven and beamed at her. ‘Thank you,’ he said, grinning at the tidiness of his office. ‘You should probably get back to your dormitory, change into some clean clothes.’

Hermione groaned. ‘Oh, God, I’ve just realised. Lavender and Parvati and the others should be awake by now. They’ll be wondering where I was all night.’

‘Just say you were late from your detention with Snape and you got up earlier than them,’ he shrugged. ‘They’ll hardly question that, will they?’

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Trust me. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil live for gossip. They’ll probably launch a private investigation.’

He grinned. Hermione couldn’t help but get lost in his smile for a moment, before realising he was wearing his suit and cloaks instead of something more comfortable. ‘Are you teaching today?’ she asked.

‘I feel much better than usual, like I said,’ he said. 

Hermione wanted to protest, to tell him he should rest after a full moon, but admittedly he did look better than usual. 

‘You should probably leave before everyone heads to breakfast,’ he said, eyeing the door cautiously. ‘People may get the wrong idea if they see you leaving my room in the morning.’

She nodded and grabbed the rest of her clothes, pulling on her tie and cloak and slipping into her shoes.

‘See you at breakfast,’ she said, smiling at the man.

‘I shall,’ he said, winking. She felt another bout of redness flush her cheeks and promptly headed to the door.

‘Oh, and, Hermione,’ he called, just as her hand hovered above the door handle.

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you,’ he breathed, gazing at her warmly. ‘I truly mean it. I cannot express how much it means that you would go through what you did to ease my condition.’

‘Same time next month?’ she asked, biting her lip and smirking.

She saw him try to push down a smile before he spoke, pursing his lips. ‘We’ll see.’


	9. The Morning After

Hermione rushed to her dormitory as quickly and as quietly as possible. It was 7:15, and breakfast would begin in fifteen minutes. While it was rare that anyone attended breakfast at the great hall so early – most people elected to sleep in until much later, in fact – she took the route that bypassed the great hall to Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady gazed at her curiously though said nothing as she quietly spoke the password and stepped through the door, entering the common room. 

Nobody was there. It was most likely that everyone was still showering and changing, or maybe even still asleep. She prayed for the latter as she rushed up the stone steps and entered her dormitory. When she entered, she was met yet again with the unlikely absence of Gryffindors. She looked about, as if they were about to jump out at her. It was an odd and rare thing for her dormitory to be empty at this time. She couldn’t help but wonder, somehow, if this weren’t a coincidence, as she shrugged off her cloak and changed into a clean set of clothes.

Breakfast was just beginning to commence by the time she reached the great hall and that too was empty, with the exception of a couple of staff members – not Remus – and a few in each house. She entered inconspicuously and sat away from those in her house, hunching over her breakfast and nibbling at some toast.

She was concentrating so hard on looking normal that she jumped when Harry and Ron arrived and greeted her.

‘Hi,’ she said, barely looking up from her breakfast. 

‘Are you alright?’ asked Harry, sitting opposite her. Ron perched alongside him, watching Hermione almost analytically. It wasn’t a look she saw on Ron’s face very often.

‘Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?’ 

Harry shrugged but Hermione found herself cringing at the look on his face. He looked smug, like he knew something she didn’t. This, too, was a look she didn’t see on Harry’s face very often.

Ginny arrived then, sitting at Harry’s side. They shared a very chaste kiss – to save Ron from great discomfort – before Ginny looked at Hermione. She had an eerily familiar expression to her boyfriend.

‘Where were you last night?’ she asked innocently.

Hermione looked blankly at all of them. ‘I was in my dorm, uh, sleeping,’ she lied.

‘That’s very odd, Hermione,’ said Ron, ‘because Lavender said that you didn’t come back from your detention last night.’

‘The detention you told us you were going to skive,’ Harry added.

‘I decided to stay in the end,’ she said. ‘You know I don’t like breaking the rules, not really. I thought I could skip it, but I realised I should probably do the right thing and stay.’

‘Do you know when Lavender told us you didn’t come back?’ Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head, dropping her toast onto her plate. She suddenly wasn’t all that hungry.

‘This morning. At about seven. Your roommates came into our dorm wondering where you were.’

‘In fact,’ Harry said, his expression the very definition of smug, ‘Parvati Patil woke up during the night multiple times and said you were never there.’

Hermione tried to stay cool. ‘I got up early,’ she shrugged. ‘And Parvati was probably dreaming or half-asleep or something. I was there all night.’

Harry and Ron eyed each other sceptically before Lavender and Parvati approached them, giggling in a way Hermione was very familiar with. She put a great amount of effort into looking nonchalant as they sat down at the table, Lavender sidling up to Ron. 

‘Did she tell you who she was with yet?’ Lavender asked, waggling her eyebrows at Hermione. 

‘She was with nobody,’ Hermione growled.

‘Oh, come on Hermione, tell us,’ Parvati begged, clasping her hands together in a mock prayer. ‘We won’t tell anyone. But you should tell your closest friends.’ 

Hermione almost scoffed but stopped herself. Parvati was okay, if a little giggly. Lavender, however, Hermione only just found tolerable. But neither were her closest friends.

‘It couldn’t have been a Gryffindor,’ Ginny said thoughtfully, ‘because you were out of the tower last night. I asked the Fat Lady.’

‘Bet it was a Ravenclaw,’ Harry said, stretching his back to look over Hermione’s head at the table behind her. He scanned the faces at the table, naming names to attempt to provoke a reaction. Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. She certainly couldn’t tell them about what she’d really been doing now that they’d assumed she’d been with someone. They’d get the completely wrong idea.

‘Ooh, I bet it was someone really embarrassing,’ Lavender squealed. ‘Or else you’d tell us.’

‘Was it Neville?’ Parvati asked as Neville sat down aside Hermione. He looked at them all with a look of genuine bemusement.

‘Was what me?’ he asked confusedly.

‘No,’ Ginny said. ‘Not a Gryffindor, remember?’

The girls sighed and continued to speculate. Hermione glanced over to the staff table. Remus had since arrived and was talking cheerily to Professor Flitwick. He soon caught her eye and grinned at her. She would have smiled back but instead turned away wearing no expression, knowing she would be under constant and intense observation for a while.

‘Maybe you can bring your new lover to the Gryffindor Halloween party Saturday night,’ Ginny said mischievously. 

Hermione groaned and continued to object, but luckily the mention of the Halloween festivities had sparked excitable conversation, and everyone temporarily forgot about whatever – or whoever – Hermione was doing last night. The group launched into a discussion about what they were each going to wear, the people they were thinking of inviting as their dates, the music, the food, the fireworks, the possibility that someone was going to smuggle in a crate of firewhiskey. Hermione realised that for the majority of Saturday evening she would be in her detention with Snape. She wasn’t all that disappointed. Parties weren’t exactly her thing.

♦ ♦ ♦

The three days that followed Hermione’s mysterious and secretive night-time disappearance were full of gossip and speculation from her fellow Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus had ambushed her on the way to Ancient Runes, thinking she was lying about taking the class and was actually meeting her secret boyfriend or girlfriend. They’d been quite disappointed when she’d led them to her classroom and actually attended the lesson.

On the Saturday the main topics of conversation had been both Hermione and the Halloween party. Following the famous feast in the evening, the Gryffindors – and many of the other houses, for that matter – were heading to the common room where the party would begin. Hermione, however, would be spending much of the evening in detention.

She spent the Saturday in clear view of her friends to attempt to end the rumours of her secret relationship, which meant she couldn’t meet with Remus – this was okay, as he had decided to visit Sirius. She spent breakfast at the Gryffindor table, trying to deflect as much of the conversation concerning her as she could; she spent the morning shivering in the cold, watching Harry, Ron and Ginny fly around the Quidditch court; the afternoon was spent doing her homework in the comfort of the common room, with plenty of witnesses to prove she wasn’t off meeting this imaginary suitor. Her detention with Snape would start as soon as the feast ended as he too would be attending the meal, and her friends didn’t feel the need to follow her when she saw her miserably follow the potions master to the dungeons.

‘You’ll be fixing the leak in the ceiling, today,’ he said when they reached the classroom. She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was very high up and the leak – caused by a crack in the wall – was being held together with some flimsy spell. A broken pipe was directly above and exposed.

She used a spell to extend a foot-ladder into one that was threateningly tall and climbed up cautiously. While she wasn’t scared of heights, she wasn’t exactly a fan of them either. It was one of the many reasons she never participated in Quidditch or anything of the like.

She was perched upon the top step working some complex repair charms when Snape decided to initiate another conversation. 

‘I heard something rather curious the other day, Miss Granger,’ he said. She wasn’t totally sure how to read the tone of his voice and didn’t want to look down to see what expression he wearing. Probably a scowl, she guessed.

‘Yes, Professor?’

‘I overheard Miss Brown and Miss Patil engaged with some idiotic Ravenclaw girls in what they seemed to think was an incredibly interesting conversation,’ he drawled.

Hermione looked down at her potions professor, who had chosen not to bother to look at Hermione and was instead pouring something into a cauldron. Hermione felt her stomach drop to the floor. It was probably a mix of the heights and the fact Snape seemed to be investigating her as well as her friends.

‘If you don’t think it was interesting, why do you care?’ she asked, looking back up at the ceiling and continuing her restoration charms.

‘Oh, I didn’t at first,’ he continued. ‘But when they mentioned you had, apparently, been off to meet someone on the very same night you found yourself horribly ill in my classroom, I couldn’t help but…’ he paused for a second. ‘Wonder.’

Hermione swallowed. She’d been under this sort of pressure for the last three days but not from someone as observant and frustratingly clever as Professor Snape. Lavender, Parvati and her friends she could deal with. She wasn’t so sure about the potions master.

‘They’ve gotten a stupid idea into their heads,’ she shrugged. ‘I went to the hospital wing that night, like you recommended.’

Shit, she thought. Why hadn’t she just said that to her friends in the first place? She would have had to invent an illness, which may have been an issue with Harry and Ron’s knowledge of her Skiving Snackbox sweets, but maybe she could have insisted they went horribly wrong, or maybe they just wouldn’t have pushed the subject as much…

‘The same thought crossed my mind,’ Snape said. She wondered how he could possibly argue with her now, unless he’d visited the infirmary that night – and that was incredibly unlikely.

‘Thank you for returning the bucket, by the way,’ he said curtly.

‘The bucket, sir?’

‘The one you left with on the way to the ‘hospital wing’, as you say,’ he said. She hated his voice. It wasn’t smug or filled with amusement and jocularity like her friends, not excitable and giggly like her roommates. He sounded cool and disinterested but she knew he was trying to make some kind of point.

‘I… think I forgot to return that, actually, sir,’ she said. She racked her brains. She’d definitely never brought it back. She’d totally forgotten it had even existed.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ he drawled. ‘It was Professor Lupin who returned it, on your behalf. How kind of him.’

Hermione swallowed a lump that had appeared in her throat.

‘Oh.’

‘Odd, that Lupin, of all people, would end up with that.’

‘Well, er, he visited me in the hospital wing when he found out I was ill and, uh, he must have brought it back then...’

‘Ah, that must be it,’ he said. There were a few moments of thick silence before he spoke again. ‘Oh, no, I appear to have made another mistake – I visited Lupin the morning following the full moon to retrieve my crate of potion vials, and there the bucket was, where I reclaimed it. Why, Miss Granger, would Lupin take back a cauldron filled with your... illness?’

Hermione was stuck for words. ‘Are you sure it was the same bucket?’ she said finally.

She could have sworn she heard Snape laugh. But Snape never laughed. He didn’t appear physically capable to express joy – only joy of the sadistic sort, apparently.

‘I asked Professor Lupin about it and, curiously, it seemed to have slipped his mind, too. Forgetfulness is not especially uncommon following a transformation, granted.’

She didn’t say anything, as she had gathered that Snape had apparently been working on this speech for a while now and didn’t want to interrupt. She felt like the murderer about to be outed in an episode of Poirot. She had finished fixing the ceiling, now, and was heading down the ladder carefully. 

‘Do you know much about the symptoms suffered by a werewolf around the full moon, Miss Granger?’ he asked. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

‘I know a bit,’ she said finally, finding her feet on the floor and looking at the man.

Snape scoffed. ‘Oh, you don’t have to be modest, Miss Granger – it doesn’t suit you at all. I’m sure you know much more than you let on about the subject.’

Hermione hummed. ‘Well, I did a lot of research in my third year. At your request, might I add.’

Snape ignored the dig and continued. ‘Did you know, for instance, that for one that suffers from lycanthropy, the hours just before the transformation are those in which one has a highly increased sex drive?’

Hermione stared at Snape blankly. Her mouth had fallen open and she was struggling to respond. ‘No. I didn’t know that.’

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. ‘I’d have thought you would. How odd.’ She saw his mouth twitch slightly into what could have only been a smirk as he gazed down at the bubbling cauldron at his feet. He stirred it lazily.

‘Why – why would I – what are you implying?’ Hermione stammered. 

‘Nothing, Miss Granger,’ he said, watching the steam rise from the cauldron with great interest. ‘In fact, the sex drive of a werewolf is increased considerably the entire week leading up to the transformation; it is simply more intense on the day itself.’

Hermione looked at her feet and sighed. ‘How interesting. I fixed your ceiling. What should I do now?’

Snape shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s rather odd that Professor Lupin attempted to retrieve you from your detentions for the entirety of last week, and since, when was it – Thursday? The day after the full moon? – has not visited once. I’m rather missing his company,’ he said. 

Hermione couldn’t believe what he was implying. Well, admittedly, she could understand why it made sense, considering the circumstances. But she couldn’t believe Snape would so readily make accusations such as this. Remus was helping Sirius clean up the Shrieking Shack this week, due to his incredibly tiny timetable lending him a lot of spare time, so there was no way he could rescue her today. Though, thinking about it, that probably wouldn’t help her case.

‘Perhaps he was attempting to court you, Professor,’ she snapped. ‘Do you need any more potions brewing? The stock reorganised? The rats caught, perhaps?’

Snape looked at her. He wasn’t amused anymore – he looked deadly serious. 

‘You should be careful, Miss Granger, when it comes to choosing your… company.’ 

Hermione could only laugh. ‘Okay, I’ve had this for days, now. With all due respect, sir, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m not having sex with Professor Lupin, as you’ve been so subtly implying.’

Snape cocked an eyebrow at her. He examined her a for a moment before narrowing his eyes and looking back at the cauldron.

‘I believe you,’ he said flatly. 

‘You – you do?’

‘Yes. I’m not such a fool I can’t tell when someone is lying to me. I’ve been a teacher a long time, Granger.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘So, what is your explanation for all of this strange behaviour?’ he asked.

She was about to be sarcastic or say something rude or simply walk out of the classroom and join in with the Halloween revelry before a thought struck her.

‘I’ll tell you,’ she said slowly, ‘if you tell me what you know about the Sectumsempra spell.’

That silenced him. He glared into the cauldron, scowling, eyebrows furrowed in apparent contemplation, before finally answering. ‘I truly don’t care, Miss Granger. I was simply going to warn you that relations with a member of staff is strictly against the rules and grounds for your immediate expulsion, and the staff member’s immediate removal from the site.’

Hermione smirked. ‘It’s a good thing that doesn’t affect me, then. Now, I’ve fixed the ceiling. What should I do next?’

♦ ♦ ♦

Snape must have been furious with Hermione’s proposal to trade information, because he’d given her an agonising amount of work to do around the dungeon and scrutinised it to the last detail. He’d thrown out a huge cauldron’s worth of cough draught for no good reason other than to make her start again, and then made her clean up the mess. As she re-made the potion, this time taking almost obsessive care in her work, she thought to herself that this was still better than being interrogated about an imaginary love affair. 

By the time he’d dismissed her it was only an hour until the seventh years’ curfew, and she guessed that by now the Halloween party wouldn’t be all that fun for anyone who wasn’t already drunk. She sighed, strolling along the hauntingly empty corridors. Even Peeves wasn’t about. He was probably gate-crashing one of the parties – probably the Ravenclaws. He seemed to particularly enjoy irritating them.

As she considered the complete and total emptiness of the school, she realised that the Prefects’ Bathroom would almost definitely be empty as well. It was a wonderful place to bathe but was almost always occupied by at least one other person and she felt terribly awkward bathing with other people, so rarely took advantage of her Prefect status and used it. Ever since Harry had achieved Prefect status by becoming team captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she’d avoided it even more. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally bump into him or Ron in the baths.

But they would be at the party now, and nobody would be taking a bath so late. She hurried through the castle and headed up to the fifth floor.

‘Jasmine dragon,’ she said, and the statue allowed her entrance. She stepped in and smiled. A huge, wonderful bathroom, all to herself. She hoped that Moaning Myrtle wouldn’t bother her while she was enjoying her peace and quiet.

She kicked off her shoes and wriggled out of her tights and placed them neatly on one of the benches before switching all on all the taps with her wand. At once, the hundred golden taps surrounding the tub gushed with water, all wonderful different colours, as well as bubbling with bright and sparkling soaps and foam. By the time she’d removed all her clothes and folded them on the bench with her shoes, the bath had rapidly filled, almost to the top. She flicked her wand and the taps stopped suddenly. The room was pleasantly dark and misty and perfumed, and a great wave of relaxation overcame her as she slipped into the hot water. 

She spent that precious hour thinking about nothing but her studies – she didn’t think about her friends, Remus, Snape, Draco Malfoy, You-Know-Who… just for a moment, she could forget everything. She even managed to cast an accio spell – without her wand – to summon a book from her satchel, and to her great pleasure, even made it levitate above the bathwater, its pages turning obediently. She sighed with utter bliss, and found herself almost bitterly upset when she realised her hour was almost up.

She was verging on the late when she finally decided to emerge from the water. It took a great amount of willpower to do so, and all the while she was wrestling with her desire to remain there, she was growing dangerously close to being past curfew.

The room was incredibly misty now, like that of a sauna; so when she finally managed to climb out of the tub, it wasn’t totally unpleasant. She gave into temptation and collapsed, sat the edge of the bath, splashing the water with her feet as the bath drained. When the bath was completely empty and the steam was beginning to clear she pushed herself to her feet, groaning.

It was then that she heard swift footsteps approaching and before she had time to even think about grabbing a towel she found herself stood, totally indecent, opposite the last person she wanted to wanted to accidentally bump into in this state.

‘Fuck!’ she cried, throwing one arm across her chest and the other to her crotch. ‘Fucking fuck!’

Professor Lupin simply gaped at her, his eyes widened and mouth opened in shock. His ability to speak had apparently abandoned him a few moments before.

‘Remus!’ she hissed, backing away and hunching as if that would somehow put clothes on her body. ‘Fucking leave!’

‘Shit – sorry – I just – thought it was empty – its curfew, you should be in your dorm-’

‘Oh, yes, now is an absolutely appropriate time to lecture me on the school rules,’ she spat. He did not turn away, his gaze just falling over the length of her, and she felt every inch of her body growing scarlet with humiliation. 

‘Remus!’

‘Fuck. Sorry. I’ll just. Yeah.’

And with that, he twisted on his heel and practically ran out of the bathroom.

Her heart was racing and she was almost paralysed with embarrassment. It was only when she shuddered, the bathroom now quite cold, that she realised she was able to actually move her body. She stumbled over to her clothes and tugged them on, not bothering to dry herself and casting a spell to do her buttons and tie for her. She dragged her cloak over her shoulders and left the bathroom feeling far more stressed and tense than she could ever remember.


	10. A Friendship

The days that followed her accidental meeting with Professor Lupin were utterly awful.

She’d returned that Saturday, late, to her half-drunken roommates, who immediately began asking where she’d been and, more importantly, who she’d been with. As soon as they’d realised she was a little damp they’d squealed with excitement and launched into what they thought was a hilarious discussion in which they speculated what Hermione had been up to in the baths.

Sunday morning could have been worse. She was one of the only seventh years who didn’t have a hangover, which meant nobody had much energy to interrogate her and tease her, much to her relief. She spent most of the day sat in her favourite chair in the library, busying her mind with homework and scouring through every bookshelf to find something on Sectumsempra. She left the library in the evening hungry and tired and no further into her investigation of the spell, but didn’t care all that much. She ate away from her friends at dinner and, luckily, Snape was in a foul mood and hardly spoke to her for the whole of her detention. He even let her leave slightly earlier than usual, claiming that he was sick of looking at her.

By Monday everyone was fully recovered, so Hermione intentionally avoided her friends. She sat away from them in lessons, particularly in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus hadn’t looked at her once, and when she’d built up the nerve to answer a question he only just barely acknowledged her existence. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She didn’t much feel like being around him now, but simultaneously this sudden awkwardness only caused her to dwell more on what had happened.

Harry had informed them that they were planning to visit Sirius at the Shrieking Shack the following week. Hermione had tried to force herself to look pleased but only felt uncomfortable and miserable. Remus had sent her an owl to let her know that he wouldn’t be available to meet in his rooms on the Saturday, because he was ‘very busy’. Her heart had plummeted to her feet when she read that note. Admittedly she had been pondering about a good excuse herself, but it was strangely upsetting all the same. She’d set fire to it with an angry incendio, which earned a few odd looks from the others at breakfast. 

Perhaps the worst thing was that she felt she could talk to absolutely nobody. If anyone, she had felt like she could talk to Remus the most. Their friendship had grown faster and more intimately than anyone else that she’d ever known – she considered herself close to Ginny, but that had taken years to develop. But in the situation she’d found herself in, she couldn’t talk to any of her friends, and Remus least of all.

So on the Saturday she would have normally spent in Remus’s cosy office, she decided to walk the grounds instead. The weather was bloody miserable and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. The bleak November sky and the frost biting at her skin felt perfectly appropriate, and it had deterred everyone else. 

She’d wrapped her scarf around her face and was holding her wand towards her, hot air streaming out of the tip and keeping her warm. It was ridiculously cold for November, she thought.

As she strolled idly about the grounds, she saw a figure in the distance. She was surprised to see another person out in this weather. Someone was sat huddled near the edge of the black lake, in the clearing near the forest. When she got a little closer, she realised it was none other than Draco Malfoy; that flash of white blond hair was unmistakeable.

Feeling bold, she decided to approach him. When she grew close enough for him to recognise her presence he hardly reacted. He simply turned back his attention to the lake, where he was skipping stones across the surface. He wasn’t actually throwing them; he was using a spell to cast them across the waters, lazily flicking the wand now and then.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi.’

She watched him for a moment before joining his side and sitting down next to him.

‘What do you want, Granger?’ he snapped. 

She was about to retort, but the sight of him up close stopped her in her tracks. He wasn’t just pale – he’d always been pale – he was white. His hair was uncharacteristically unkempt and he looked as though he hadn’t slept for a week. Dark circles outlined his bloodshot eyes, easily the darkest thing about him. There was a complete absence of any colour in his face. If it weren’t for the fact he was blinking now and again he’d look eerily like a corpse.

‘Are you – are you alright?’ she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Why?’

‘Because you look like complete shit.’

He actually laughed, albeit joylessly. ‘Yeah, I’m peachy.’ 

She examined him for a moment. ‘You’ve been like this since term started,’ she said. ‘You’ve just gotten worse.’

He shrugged. ‘Just hate it here.’

Hermione hummed. As bad of a mood she was in, and as awful as the weather was, the sight of the great lake stretching far into the horizon and the grand, magnificent castle towering over them with all its majesty and splendour was one to behold. She didn’t understand why anyone would hate it here. She would miss it terribly when she left.

‘Don’t lie,’ she said finally. ‘What’s actually wrong?’

Draco breathed. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Do you care?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ he muttered. ‘Just figured that something must be wrong with you if you’re desperate enough to try and make friends with me of all people.’ He skipped another stone out onto the lake, but instead it plummeted into its depths on its first bounce. He swore.

‘Is it so hard to believe I simply care about other people?’ she asked.

‘No. I just don’t believe you’d give a shit about the guy that almost killed you.’

Hermione pursed her lips. She was hoping to get her information out of him; her detentions with Snape had finished that week and she’d not been able to get anything out of him. 

‘If I tell you what’s wrong with me, will you tell me what’s wrong with you?’ she asked.

Draco shrugged. ‘Depends on how bad yours is. If it doesn’t match up then I’m not breathing a word.’

Hermione sighed, and decided to give it a go. ‘Everyone thinks I have a secret boyfriend or girlfriend or something,’ she said flatly.

Draco snorted.

‘They think that because one day I skived detention with Snape – which I got for getting into a fight – and didn’t return to my dorm until the next morning.’

Draco hummed. ‘Yeah. I heard about that. Some Ravenclaw girls were talking about it in Transfiguration.’ He shot another stone out across the lake. This one managed two bounces before sinking. ‘Everyone thinks you were fucking somebody. Goes to show how much of a life everyone has here, obsessing over that.’

Hermione nodded. ‘I was actually in Professor Lupin’s rooms all night keeping him company while he transformed under the full moon.’

Draco shot around to look at her, staring at her in shock. ‘You – you what?’

‘Nothing happened,’ she said, sighing. ‘We’ve just become quite close friends and he said that he hated being so isolated during the full moon so I offered to keep him company and ended up sleeping in his office.’

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘Right,’ he said finally.

When she didn’t continue he raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that all? Your big problem is that you’re best buddies with a werewolf and everyone thinks you’re hooking up with someone?’

She bit her lip. ‘Snape was onto me. He thought I was sleeping with Re- Professor Lupin,’ she murmured.

‘Are you?’ he asked, suddenly curious. 

‘No!’ she said, reddening. He cocked an eyebrow. 

‘You’re blushing, though,’ he pointed out. He sounded like a child.

‘I’m not sleeping with him,’ she muttered.

‘So what else is there, then?’

‘Uh. After my detention on Halloween I had a bath in the Prefects’ Bathroom and Professor Lupin walked in on me,’ she said, very quickly, as though that would somehow obscure her words. Despite this all being rather odd and embarrassing – opening up to Draco in this bizarre way – it felt quite good to say it all out loud.

To her surprise, and slight agitation, Draco chuckled. ‘Bet he did that on purpose.’

‘He did not!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was a complete accident. He’s even more embarrassed than I am. He’s avoiding me like the black plague, pretending I don’t exist in DADA, he sent me an owl to tell me he couldn’t meet me today because he’s ‘busy’…’ 

Draco seemed thoughtful. ‘Were you, like, in the bath, or just in the bathroom?’ he asked.

‘Why does it matter?’

‘It matters.’

She huffed. ‘I’d just gotten out of the bath. Didn’t have time to grab a towel or anything.’

Draco raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. It was the first time she’d seen him express any emotion over than anger or boredom or misery since school started.

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘So he saw… everything?’ he asked, his eyes trailing up and down her body. She grimaced and shifted away from him.

‘Yes,’ she muttered. 

‘Hmm.’ Another stone into the lake. It leaped four times and Draco smiled triumphantly. ‘What did he do?’

‘He apologised and left,’ she said.

‘So he didn’t have a look?’ he asked.

Hermione was growing incredibly uncomfortable. ‘Well. Maybe it was because I was in shock and he was in shock and everything felt frankly bizarre and perhaps my perception of time, as a result, was slightly off…’

‘Get to the point, Granger.’

‘He seemed to… linger. For a bit. A second.’ 

Draco nodded wisely, as though he’d known all along. ‘Reckon he feels guilty,’ he said. ‘Because he enjoyed it.’

Hermione crossed her arms tightly over her body. ‘I highly doubt that,’ she said in the most irritating matter-of-fact voice she could muster. 

Draco was eyeing her curiously. ‘You’re not sleeping with him,’ he said. It wasn’t a question.

‘No.’

‘Do you want to?’ he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

‘No!’ she said. She felt the heat rising in her face. She drew her wand closer to her, the hot air rising and warming her skin. Hopefully that would effectively mask her embarrassment. It didn’t. 

‘You do,’ he said. He laughed again – this time, out of real, genuine amusement. It was sort of nice seeing him like that, she thought. Even if it was at her own expense.

‘Trust me, I really don’t,’ she snapped. 

Draco threw another stone into the lake. ‘If you want me to tell you what’s wrong with me – and trust me, it’s much more interesting than this – then you should be honest, Granger.’

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Eventually Hermione decided to. ‘I honestly don’t know what I want,’ she said finally. ‘I’m just… confused.’ She played with the bracelet on her wrist. It was flashing about a dozen different colours.

Draco hummed. ‘So, you want to fuck your professor, who half hates you and half wants to fuck you too. Not quite as bad as I had in mind, but I suppose it’s made worse by the fact that he’s a werewolf and you’re a…’

‘Mudblood,’ she answered for him. The word didn’t have any weight to it anymore, he’d uttered it so many times.

‘I was going to say muggleborn,’ he said.

She looked at him sceptically. ‘Sure.’

‘I was,’ he insisted. He looked out to the far stretches of the lake. ‘I don’t… use those words anymore. They came from my father. And I’m trying to disassociate myself from him as much possible.’

Hermione made a mental note to herself to be extremely careful now – it appeared to be Draco’s turn to open up.

‘Why?’ she asked.

Draco shrugged. ‘He’s a dick.’ 

Hermione bit her tongue to prevent her from saying something stupid like ‘you only just worked that out?’.

‘What did he do?’

Draco was silent for what felt like an extremely long time. Hermione didn’t push him. For the moments of silence they both stared at some kind of bird of prey soar across the lake.

‘He wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do,’ he said quietly. ‘Well. At first I thought I did but when it got to actually doing it I realised it was, uh…’ he huffed. ‘Not something I wanted to involve myself with.’

‘What did he want you to do?’ Hermione asked, in almost a whisper.

Draco didn’t answer her question but continued to speak regardless. ‘When I told him I didn’t want to do what he asked he got angry and insisted. I kept saying no and…’ the stone he threw into the lake this time was more like a rock and it dived into the lake with a great crash. ‘I’m out of his life now. And he’s out of mine.’

Hermione hummed. ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’

‘Damn right it is.’

Hermione didn’t want to ask him what it was that his father wanted him to do. Instead, she decided to ask something different.

‘Can you tell me about the spell you used on me?’ she asked, turning to face him.

Draco shrugged. ‘It’s called-’

‘Sectumsempra, I know,’ she said. ‘That was all Snape told me. And that you didn’t perform it well enough to kill, only injure, as you did.’

Draco sighed. ‘I didn’t really want to kill you anyway, if it makes you feel better.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Thanks, Draco, that’s lovely.’

Draco smirked, but his face fell almost immediately. ‘It was roughly around that time that my father officially banished me,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘He’d been talking about it for months but I never thought he’d go through with it. He did. And I don’t know what happened. I just remember getting angry. At him, first. Then myself. Then you, because you were just there. And I shot the first spell that came to mind.’

Hermione nodded. ‘It wasn’t… personal, then?’

He shook his head wordlessly.

‘Do you mind me asking where you learnt it?’ she asked timidly.

‘Snape taught it to me,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘I told him about my dad and my dad’s plans, and he seemed to think I might be in danger so he taught me it for self-defence. I’d never actually used it until that point,’ he muttered.

Hermione’s brain was almost bursting with thoughts. The spell traced back to Snape; Draco seemed utterly clueless about everything else, he just knew how to use it. But Snape taught it to Draco, he must know all about it. This explained why Snape had expressed some kind of guilt or shame when she was first hit, why he was acting like he was responsible somehow; this explained why he actually apologised to her, the only remorse she’d ever witnessed from the potions master. Because, in a way, it sort of was his fault. He was the one that had taught it to Draco, who was the very definition of the ‘wrong hands’. 

‘Could you, uh, tell me what your dad wanted you to do?’ 

Draco stared at the ground underneath his feet with a stern expression before finally sighing and turning to her. ‘No, I really can’t.’

Hermione was desperate to push the subject but she resisted, reluctantly, and instead nodded in understanding at the blond. This rapport would come in handy, she was sure. And, somehow, there was something liberating about confiding in Draco the things she could not confide in her friends – she was in no hurry to push him away.

She stood from her spot and he eyed her with curiosity as she paced about the clearing. She was gathering twigs and branches and dry leaves to light a small fire. 

‘So,’ she said, as she crouched to pick out suitable burning material, ‘could you at least tell me what happened with you and your gang?’

Draco scoffed at the word ‘gang’ before answering. ‘They have their own… motivations. Aspirations. That were dependent on me to perform the task I was instructed to carry out. When they found out I was against it they were furious.’ He cursed them under his breath. ‘Like they’d have the balls to do it themselves.’

Hermione wanted to explode with curiosity but she tried to remain collected as she organised the twigs and leaves and lit a small fire with her wand. Draco chuckled at it. It was a bit of a pathetic fire. But Hermione felt herself relax as she watched the flames. Any fire, now, reminded her of the crackling hearth in Remus’s office.

‘So, uh, what are you going to do over the holidays then?’ she asked. She figured that if he’d been kicked out of his home and rejected by his friends he’d have nowhere.

Draco’s eyebrows knit together suddenly and he scowled into the tiny fire in a very familiar way. ‘Hadn’t thought about it. I suppose I’ll have to stay… here.’

Hermione nodded silently and followed his gaze into the fire. It shimmered and sparked and she watched its smoke rise and thin and disappear into the elements.

♦ ♦ ♦

Hermione had met with Draco the following day in the same place, only semi-accidentally. She had suspected he would be lurking in the same spot and she was set on building some kind of friendship between them. It had begun purely as means of gathering information on Snape, his spell and whatever else Draco was hiding, but after only a short while she found herself enjoying his company in an odd way. It was refreshing, freeing. He was entirely detached from all her other friends – as well as everyone else – which meant that she didn’t fear the things she told him in confidence would travel through the grapevine.

A part of her was still greatly curious about his secrets, however – and she was almost certain Draco was aware of this. She found that the two-way process, in which she told him something and he would usually return the favour, was quite effective. She would confide in him the intricacies of her and Remus’s flourishing relationship and the frustrations that had emerged from such, and he would offer little titbits of personal information. She often found herself the more generous of the two, but she didn’t mind.

She was fully engaged with a story about one of Remus’s rescues from detention, and Draco would roll his eyes and act disinterested, though she knew she had grasped his curiosity. And once she had reached the end of her anecdote and the two had fallen into a momentary silence, Draco had asked – for the third, or maybe fourth, time – about Harry Potter.

‘What about him?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged and scowled and kicked the earth under his feet.

‘I don’t know. What’s the latest drama with the… speccy scar-head?’ he asked. His voice was almost so full of nonchalance it had ended up with the opposite effect, and Hermione was slightly suspicious.

‘He’s alright,’ she shrugged. ‘I mean, I’ve been avoiding him a bit lately, you know, because of the secret relationship thing. But he’s just playing Quidditch and being lazy in lessons and going out with Ginny. Normal Harry stuff,’ she said.

Draco grunted. Hermione wasn’t comfortable enough with Draco to tell him about Harry’s repressed nightmares and headaches, not yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be. Her and Remus’s unconventional relationship was one thing, but omens of the dark lord’s return was quite another.

She’d taken her books and homework with her to their clearing and she was idly working through them while they spoke. At one point, however, while she was busy with a particularly complex essay for Professor McGonagall, she heard Draco rummaging through her bag.

‘What are you doing?’ she snapped, reaching over and snatching for the bag in the boy’s hands. With surprisingly fast reflexes, he effortlessly dodged her grasp and she gripped the thin air.

‘Relax, I’m just looking at your library of books. Unless you’ve got something to hide,’ he drawled, shooting her a look. She shook her heard curtly and watched him intently as he methodically pulled out a tome, examined it disinterestedly, and returned it to the satchel.

He’d taken some interest, however, in Hermione’s copy of Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy.

‘You doing your research on your lover?’ he asked, flicking it open.

‘He lent it to me. Lycanthropy is a fascinating subject. And this must be a rare book, I’ve not seen it anywhere else.’

Draco hummed and thumbed its pages. ‘What’s it actually about?’

Hermione thought for a moment. She’d found herself reading it heavily ever since she’d bumped into Remus in the baths, and not seen him at all after. She wasn’t sure whether that was because she felt the need to replace him with this book, somehow, or if she was just bored now that she didn’t have Remus to talk to. Either way, she had studied the book in great depth.

‘It’s a detailed account of how a werewolf is affected by each day of the lunar cycle. So on the fifteenth day, for example, as it’s practically midway through the cycle, it’s the best time for a werewolf. Because he’s not strongly affected by an oncoming full moon, or just recovering from one.’

Draco nodded and continued to seemingly scan each page before turning it. She watched him. She wasn’t fully aware of his views on lycanthropy; she’d assumed, as a proud pureblood, he’d be very much prejudiced against any hybrid species, like many are. In fact, one of the many things that she enjoyed about Remus was their shared experiences of discrimination in the wizarding world, though his was obviously far worse. But Draco was reading this book with no overt signs of disgust or disapproval. Perhaps he was more liberal than she’d given him credit for.

‘Have you read all this?’ he asked.

‘Not all. It’s a big book,’ she said. This was true – it was a heavy tome with pages and pages of information on every single day of the lunar cycle. 

‘You read these bits?’ he asked, leaning over slightly and prodding the subheading ‘sex and fertility’. 

She groaned. ‘Is that really all you men care about? Snape was scarily quick to bring up sex drives.’ She shuddered. ‘Creepy.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Draco said, smirking. ‘You should probably learn this stuff inside out. I would.’

‘Be my guest, then,’ she said, waving her hand carelessly and rolling her eyes. 

Draco continued to read with some interest before asking when she would see Remus again.

‘Uh, I guess in DADA,’ she said. This wasn’t a total lie, but she didn’t want to tell Draco about the group visit to Sirius in Shrieking Shack that was taking place the following weekend. In all honesty, she didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. She didn’t want to go. But she had to. She had no excuse that would satisfy Harry.


	11. The Shrieking Shack

The following week shot by and before Hermione knew it she waking early Saturday morning. There were a few blissful moments in her weary state where she had forgotten the plans for that day. But then it dawned on her, and she groaned into her pillow, a feeling of dread rising in her gut.

She tugged on some warm clothes and was dressed and ready before her roommates were even awake. She breakfasted alone for a while, her earliness unmatched by her friends, though they eventually arrived and greeted her. Harry was particularly excited to see his godfather.

They had no idea about Remus still. Or for that matter, her recent meetings with Draco Malfoy, or her knowledge of the Sectumsempra spell and her suspicions surrounding her potions professor. She realised rather guiltily that she was keeping a lot of secrets from them this year. Often she confided in Ginny, but because she was practically joined at Harry’s hip, she was more wary of the redhead. Harry would tell Ron, and Ron would let it slip to just about anyone.

‘We’re meeting Lupin in Hagrid’s hut,’ Harry was explaining. ‘To avoid suspicion – if we’re seen, we want people to think we’re just visiting Hagrid for the day. Then we’ll split up and take it in turns to approach the Whomping Willow – groups are easier to spot, obviously – and then we’ll make our way to the shack. We’ll return about half an hour before curfew. It’ll be dark then so we probably won’t be seen.’

They all nodded and descended into excited chatter about seeing Sirius. Hermione was pleased, yes, she was fond of him after all – but she absolutely dreaded having to spend an extended period with Remus. She imagined he felt the same way. She was surprised he hadn’t made up some excuse to get out of it, but he probably didn’t want to do that to Harry.

As expected, Remus didn’t turn up for breakfast. When they’d had their full they headed out of the great hall and outside through the grounds, trekking towards Hagrid’s hut on the outskirts of the forest. As they strolled through the fields Hermione cast a glance at the willow in the distance, its colossal branches waving and thumping the earth beneath it. 

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat when she and the others approached the hut. Remus’s back was to the window and Hagrid was facing him. He saw them gather outside his house and offered them all a wide grin, disappearing momentarily and reappearing at the door. He beckoned them all in happily, surveying the grounds once behind them as though to check for onlookers. It was clear, seemingly.

‘I expec’ Sirius is as exci’ed as you all are!’ Hagrid was buzzing, beaming at the four and Remus. Remus smiled politely though said nothing. Hermione watched him nod at Harry, Ron and Ginny in acknowledgement, and avoid her altogether. This was torturous, she thought. This was going to be her entire day.

‘Can I offer yer some tea?’ Hagrid asked, glancing around at them all with a large pot in hand. Ron looked as though he were about to enthusiastically accept but Harry interrupted.

‘No, no thank you, Hagrid, we’re hoping to get to Sirius as soon as possible,’ he said hastily. He was in such anticipation he looked anxious, tapping his foot impatiently and his gaze stuck to the clock on Hagrid’s wall. Hagrid raised his eyebrows but nodded in understanding.

‘Alrigh’, I’m sure yer do,’ he said. He smiled warmly at Hermione. Hagrid and Hermione had some strain set on their relationship following the fight with Ernie and the Hufflepuffs, but after he'd heard how she'd defended him to Dumbledore, he’d quickly forgotten the events of the Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 

‘How are we doing this?’ Ginny asked, looking at her boyfriend. Harry scanned the room before answering.

‘Well, there’s five of us, which is an odd number annoyingly… we should go in maybe a two and a three, or two pairs and one by themselves?’

Ginny instinctively took a step towards Harry and Hermione found herself automatically in the company of Ron and Remus.

‘I’ll go with you two,’ Ron said, eyeing his sister suspiciously. He still wasn’t comfortable with their relationship, and didn’t like their time spent alone together. 

Remus cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that was very much reserved for teaching. ‘No need, Ron. Go with Hermione, I’ll travel by myself. We’ll all be less conspicuous that way.’

Hermione couldn’t help but scowl at her feet. Ron looked as though he wanted to argue, but one sharp look from Remus, and he decided against it. 

‘I’ll see yer all soon, then,’ Hagrid said chirpily. Remus decided to leave first and Hagrid slapped his back in what was intended to be friendly as he headed to exit. Remus was thrown forward slightly, but when he stumbled to his feet he smiled at the giant and quietly bid him farewell before disappearing.

‘Bi’ of a shy one,’ Hagrid thought aloud, looking at the door where Remus had been a few seconds ago. ‘Lovely man, though, mild-mannered sort.’

After a couple of minutes Harry and Ginny left, giving just enough time for Remus to enter the tunnels. Eventually it was just Ron and Hermione in Hagrid’s hut, making polite conversation until Ron decided it was time they should probably leave too. Hermione agreed, a little reluctantly, and said goodbye to Hagrid.

The two strode out towards the willow. It was silent and nobody was in sight – Harry and Ginny had disappeared too. Hermione supposed the bleak weather had once again put people off from venturing outdoors; she herself much desired the cosy comforts of the common room, or her warm bed curled up with her cat. 

Ron seemed to have something on his mind, but Hermione was occupied with her own concerns and didn’t feel the need to ask. However, he spoke his thoughts anyway.

‘You know,’ he said, frowning at the thickly clouded sky, ‘I’m sort of… used to my best mate going out with my sister. But I wish they didn’t have to throw it in my face all the time,’ he huffed.

‘I see why it would make you uncomfortable,’ Hermione mused. ‘I think if I had a brother, or sister, I’d feel the same way. But Ginny can-’

‘Ginny can make her own choices, live her own life, I know, I know,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve had this lecture from Ginny and Harry and mum and every other bloody person on earth.’

Hermione frowned. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I suppose it’s just something you’ll have to learn to understand and get used to.’

Ron hummed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, grumbling about the cold.

‘What about you, then?’ he asked.

She glanced at him. ‘What?’

‘You know, what everyone has been saying about your secret relationship, or whatever?’ he said. 

Hermione sighed. She was sick of this, and it had actually subsided over this week. In fact, of all her friends, Ron had been the least interested and not questioned her in the slightest. She had been thankful until now.

‘It’s all a rumour, like I’ve said for the billionth time,’ she muttered.

‘So you really don’t then?’

‘No, I really don’t.’

Ron nodded. Neither of them spoke for a while. They approached the willow and Hermione halted it mid-swing by pressing its knot. Ron went first down the entrance, a slight thud and a disgruntled cry telling Hermione that he’d landed at the bottom. She checked her surroundings one last time before following. Luckily, Ron had thought to move out the way as Hermione came crashing down.

‘If we make this a regular thing,’ she said, grumbling and gathering herself to her feet, ‘we should make the entrance a bit more pleasant.’

‘Agreed,’ he said.

The tunnels were freezing. Hermione had found it difficult to conceive of temperatures colder than those she experienced on the grounds, but under the earth it was even worse. She held her arms to her chest and pulled all her layers closer to her body, watching her breath flow from her mouth and disappear. They decided they should get through this journey as fast as possible, and hoped that Sirius had thought to keep the place warm for their arrival.

‘So why is Professor Lupin being so weird?’ he asked her suddenly, as they half-jogged through the tunnels.

‘What do you mean?’ she said innocently.

‘Well, I don’t know. Just like every other teacher in this place you were his favourite,’ he said, rolling his eyes and pulling a face that looked so eerily like the twins. ‘But it’s almost like he’s sort of… ignoring you, or something. Did you say anything to piss him off?’

Hermione internally groaned. Ron wasn’t supposed to be observant. His lack of observational skills were, in fact, one of the things she found very likeable about him. She had too many mind-readers in her life.

‘I think you’re just imagining things, Ron,’ she said flatly. ‘Nothing’s changed. And anyway, when would I ever do anything to upset a teacher?’

Ron laughed. ‘Oh, I dunno. You’ve done that quite a bit lately.’

Hermione huffed and decided not to respond.

The two sighed with relief they reached the end of the tunnel and looked upwards at the trap door, light spilling through its cracks. Ron reached upwards and opened it with ease, and climbed out. Hermione followed.

Once she’d gathered herself out of the trap door and shut it behind her, her gaze swept the room as she examined her surroundings. Harry and Sirius were sat opposite each other in tatty, patched armchairs facing the hearth, Ginny perched on the arm of Harry’s chair. Remus was nowhere to be seen but she heard him in what she imagined was the kitchen. She was quite impressed with the work Sirius and Remus had done with the place. She thought back to its state four years ago; crawling with god knows what, dirty, cold, dark and damp. Everything was ripped and clawed and torn to absolute shreds due its frequenting werewolf visitor the many years before, and had since been cloaked with a thick layer of dust and grime. But Sirius had managed to clean everything, and dispose of everything beyond repair. The walls looked repainted, the floors no longer creaking and groaning under her footsteps, and an array of candles offered some soft light to the room. Everything even resembling a potential entrance or exit was still boarded up, however. It was pleasant enough, overall. Stuffy, and a bit bare, but welcoming in a quaint way.

Ron wandered over to greet Sirius as Hermione remained near the trap door. It wasn’t until a few moments later, when Sirius had leant forward and waved her over with a grin, that she had approached them.

‘Great to see you, love,’ Sirius said, standing and pulling her into an embrace. He must’ve noticed she was tense and frozen his arms, because he said quietly, ‘are you alright?’

She cleared her throat and assured him she was fine, stepping away from him. He automatically fell back into conversation with his godson who had not noticed the brief exchange. Ron was stood at Sirius’s side now, opposite his sister. Hermione felt rather out of place all of a sudden, and decided to look at the rest of the shrieking shack. The room she first found herself in was the foyer, which Sirius and Remus had remodelled into a kind of lounge with a functioning fireplace and a seating area. They’d managed to open up some of the adjacent rooms, one of which was a tiny kitchen, another an equally small bathroom. Up the stairs, the bedroom was cleaned. The bed, which she remembered before had been old, rickety and moth-eaten, had been altered into one that looked far more appealing. A desk sat in the corner. Upon it was stacks and stacks of parchment; newspapers, letters, scraps of notes, even some kind of map of a place she didn’t recognise. Her curiosity overwhelmed her and she paced towards it, desperate to properly examine the desk’s contents.

‘Hermione?’

She jumped a little. She turned. At the staircase, Remus was stood. When she had turned to face him his eyes had shot downwards to his feet.

‘Sirius wondered where you’d gone. You shouldn’t be up here.’ 

Hermione thought about apologising, but decided against it. Instead, she stared at him, daring him to look at her.

‘What’s all this stuff?’ she asked, motioning to the papers on the desk. She took the few remaining moments she had to glance it all over. In the brief few seconds she had, she saw a letter sent from Dumbledore, a newspaper article about the freak storm that had taken place over the summer, and lots of written notes that she recognised as Sirius’s awful scribbly handwriting that she couldn’t quite make out.

His gaze fell onto the desk she stood by, avoiding her almost completely. He sighed.

‘It’s none of your concern. Downstairs, please.’

‘Is it the Order?’ she asked. She wasn’t sure what else it could possibly be.

Remus looked as though he were wrestling with his temper. ‘If it were, as someone with nothing to do with the Order, it’s incredibly inappropriate of you to ask. Downstairs.’

‘Oh, you want to talk about things that’re inappropriate?’ she snapped. 

He finally looked up at her. But he wasn’t angry, like she’d expected him to be. He just looked guilty. 

‘Sirius, has, uh, made food for everybody,’ he said flatly. And with that, he turned and headed back down the staircase, his cloak flying behind him. She waited for a moment before letting out a huge sigh of frustration. But what he had said about the Order was true. She wasn’t technically a part of it. She didn’t have the right to endanger them by gathering this information. She resisted the temptation to explore all the texts laid out in front of her, and followed her professor back to the foyer.

They’d managed to conjure an extra four chairs to sit alongside the two armchairs in a circular arrangement, a coffee table in the centre holding a pot of tea, six cups, a jug of milk and a little bowl of sugar. There was also a generous amount of sandwiches piled up on large plates. Sirius and Harry sat in the armchairs. Hermione intentionally sat away from Remus between Ginny and Ron and helped herself to a cup of tea and a sandwich as she listened to the conversation that was unravelling.

‘At the moment, I’m preparing safe houses,’ Sirius was saying. ‘This is one, Grimmauld is another. Moony and I intend to charm his old cottage in Yorkshire into something less detectable, that’ll do. There’s also a place in an English forest that’ll be ideal. Abandoned wizard community, but no muggles know it’s there either – its charms are still working, we think,’ he nodded at Remus. ‘That would hold a lot of people.’

‘Sorry, what’s all this for?’ Hermione asked. She’d clearly missed the background information to this.

‘Places to hide out. If things ever get too dire,’ Sirius said. He shook his head. ‘It shouldn’t happen. Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world. It’s just that… anyone who’s a witch or wizard knows where it is. You-Know-Who studied there, for Merlin’s sake.’

‘Would we go to one of these safe houses after we graduate?’ Ron asked.

Sirius glanced at Remus. They looked equally conflicted. ‘The thought had crossed our minds. But it may be unnecessary. We just don’t know how safe we all are, not yet.’

‘That’s what the Order is trying to figure out, isn’t it?’ Harry said.

‘I suppose you could say that.’

‘Well, what are you actually doing, then?’ Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He had this expression on his face that Hermione knew well. He was frustrated about all the secrecy around him. Lately he’d made this face at any mention of the Order of the Phoenix.

‘Harry, you know we’re not allowed to tell you anything about that,’ Sirius said sternly. ‘It’s for-’

‘For my own good, yeah,’ Harry muttered. 

‘Don’t get clever with me, son,’ Sirius growled. ‘We need to keep you as safe as possible. Throwing yourself into the midst of You-Know-Who’s favourite gang isn’t exactly keeping you safe, is it?’

‘You know what would keep me safe, though,’ Harry said, crossing his arms and scowling like a scorned child.

‘It’s not me stopping you from that,’ Sirius said, eyeing Remus. Remus shook his head.

‘Don’t look at me. At an Order meeting, we brought up the issue of teaching you to be Animagi. But Dumbledore was even more against it than I am.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Wise man, Dumbledore.’

Harry rolled his eyes and bit into a sandwich.

‘Speaking of whom,’ Sirius said, glaring at his irritable godson, ‘like much of the Order, Dumbledore is travelling over the Christmas holidays. He won’t be at Hogwarts. We’re uncertain of how far this will endanger everyone.’

‘Ginny and I are gonna be at the Burrow, though,’ Ron interjected. 

‘And I’d be at home with you,’ Harry said to Sirius. Sirius sighed.

Hermione stayed silent. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do this Christmas. She had actually been entertaining the idea of staying at Hogwarts. She loved her family, but she only had this year left at the castle – then she’d be moving on. She wanted to be there as much as possible. 

And of course, there was Draco. He’d be staying at Hogwarts too, and that’d be a perfect opportunity to nurture their growing friendship… and hopefully pull more information out of him. She’d also considered the fact Remus would be likely to stay for the holidays, but she was no longer so concerned about that.

‘That’s all still possible. We just wouldn’t be completely comfortable with you at Hogwarts. Not without Dumbledore there.’

Hermione knew she needed to speak up.

‘Actually, I was going to stay,’ she said quietly.

Everyone looked at her. Except Remus, who was suddenly very interested in his hands.

‘You’re not going to see your parents?’ Sirius asked.

Hermione shook her head.

Sirius sighed. ‘I think you should, Hermione. It’ll be safe in the muggle world.’

Hermione frowned. The more she was being pressed to visit her family for the holidays, the more she didn’t want to. She had visions of the beautifully decorated castle, the snow, the quiet Gryffindor common room, the wonderful feast… 

‘You can visit one of us, if you want,’ Harry said. 

‘Come to the Burrow, Hermione,’ Ginny piped. ‘So many people are coming round this year, it’ll be amazing.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to visit my family,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘We have the remainder of this year at Hogwarts, and that’s it. I want to make the most of it.’

Sirius was frowning. ‘Well, Moony wasn’t keen to leave, were you, mate? Full moon on… what… 26th, was it?’

Remus reddened slightly and nodded with a clear discomfort that Sirius was discussing his lycanthropy so freely and openly.

‘So as long as you’re there you can look after Hermione, knight in shining armour and all that,’ Sirius shrugged.

Hermione highly doubted Sirius had said such a thing to strike a nerve, unless Remus had told him anything, or he was just ridiculously intuitive. But it had struck a nerve in her nonetheless, and she’d stiffened and stared into the bottom of the empty cup in her hands. Remus didn’t say anything for a few moments but eventually cleared his throat to occupy the silence.

‘Yes. Fine.’

Sirius widened his eyes and looked at them, befuddled by the odd exchange.

‘Harry and I were planning to join the most hospitable Weasleys at the Burrow for Christmas day, however,’ Sirius said, still looking at them in an odd way. ‘You two are free to join, unless Hermione cannot physically drag herself away.’

Hermione shot Sirius a filthy look.

‘From Hogwarts, I mean,’ Sirius added, examining her with an intense curiosity. He squashed a whole sandwich into his mouth and chewed it with slight difficulty, smirking at Hermione. She looked back into her teacup.

The group fell into a discussion about forming portkeys to the various safe houses over the next few weeks. Ron leant towards Hermione.

‘Reckon that looks like a kite,’ he said, looking at the lumps of tea leaves in her cup. ‘A wish will come true. Or… it could be a cat.’ He lowered his voice in a spooky kind of way. ‘Watch out, that means someone in your life is actually deceiving you… ooooh…’

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the redhead. ‘For someone who moans about Divination so much, you really are quite good at it.’

‘Quite good at it? How dare you. I’m great at it.’

Sirius was talking. ‘And if anyone has any more ideas for safe houses, tell me or Moony. Mate, help me clear all this up, would you?’ he looked at Remus, who nodded and began to gather things from the table, both manually and muttering spells to help with the overflow of plates and cups.

The two men headed to the kitchen. Ron and Ginny stood almost automatically and fought for the comfort of the armchair, pushing and shoving. Ginny won, Ron grumbling and sitting back in his chair.

Hermione could hear the men talking quietly in the kitchen. She so desperately wanted to know what about, but she couldn’t hear them over the conversation her friends were having. She heavily suspected it was about the Order, however. Or with a bit of luck, about Snape – or maybe even Draco.

‘We’re having this huge turkey,’ Ginny was saying excitedly. ‘And Bill and Charlie will be back for Christmas Day, Bill’s bringing his girlfriend, that pretty French girl – Flower? Flora? I can’t remember – and Percy’s working, but he’ll be back on Boxing Day, at least. And Fred and George are taking practically the whole week off – they can afford to, the shop is so successful, they’re paying for half the meal... And Luna and her dad are visiting for Christmas Day, and you and Sirius, obviously, and I think Hagrid is too, isn’t he? Oh, Hermione, you have to come! With Professor Lupin, too.’

Hermione nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, I’d love to.’

‘And you can bring that lover of yours,’ she said with a smirk.

Hermione scowled. ‘Yeah, yeah, I will,’ she said sarcastically. 

Her friends knew it irritated her when they commented about the rumours of her love affair. While she was practically becoming desensitised to it, and it hardly bothered her anymore, she took it as a perfect excuse to stand and go to the bathroom.

It was tiny, and you could hardly call it a bathroom. It didn’t have a bath. Or a shower, actually. There was a toilet and a sink, a small square mirror and a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling which flickered on and off intermittently. She grimaced at the toilet. It wasn’t awful, but she didn’t much fancy using it. Luckily, she didn’t need to. The bathroom was right next to the kitchen and the Shrieking Shack had notoriously thin walls – especially when Hermione knew a nifty charm for situations just like this.

She drew her wand from her jeans and mumbled the charm under her breath and next door’s conversation was amplified to her ears. She pressed her head against the wall and listened carefully.

‘And Tonks is dating him now,’ Sirius was saying. ‘Or she was last time I spoke to her, anyway. So you let that one get away, mate.’

‘I told you. Tonks is nice, but… I don’t think we’re compatible.’

‘Who, then? Someone older? I bet old Minerva has a thing for younger men…’

‘Shut up, Sirius. Stop trying to pimp me out.’

‘You need to get out there, mate, I’m doing you a favour. When was the last time you hooked up, eh?’

‘That’s none of your business. When was the last time you did?’

Hermione sighed. They weren’t talking about the Order or anything else she was interested in. Still… maybe they would bring it up. She kept her ear pressed to the wall. 

‘We’re not talking about me. Anyway, I’m a surrogate father to a troublesome teenager. I don’t have the time.’

‘He’s always at school, you nitwit.’ 

‘But I worry about him constantly. I’m too busy worrying to do anything else. Anyway, you don’t have anyone in your life. I’m the closest you’ve got, Moony. How about we just give up this whole charade and marry each other, eh? You know there’s always been something between us.’ 

She heard Remus huff. ‘I think I’d actually rather drown in my own waste, Sirius.’

Sirius made a childish ‘ooooh’ noise, one that Hermione’s classmates often joyfully chanted whenever someone got a bit angry, or if someone was carted off to a teacher’s office for misbehaving.

‘Bit defensive, aren’t we? What is it? You fucking someone?’

‘No.’

‘Is it Snivellus?’

‘Don’t call him that, Sirius.’

‘Ooh. ‘Don’t call him that, Sirius’ – defending his honour, eh? What is it that turns you on, Moony? Those dark, greasy locks? That massive beak of his? Or his massive-’

‘Enough,’ Remus snapped.

Sirius was cackling evilly. ‘Really, though, I bet you’re bloody lonely.’

Remus didn’t respond.

‘Aren’t you?’ Sirius asked. ‘Or do you have some pretty, dirty little secret I don’t know about?’

‘No. I just have a very fulfilling life. I teach, read, visit you, talk to Albus, transform into a werewolf once a month. What else is there?’

‘So Dumbledore and me are-’

‘Dumbledore and I,’ Remus corrected him.

‘Merlin, Dumbledore and I – you annoying prick – us two are the only ones you talk to? Your best friend you can’t stand and a hundred and fifty year old man?’

‘Believe it or not, I do have friends other than you.’

‘First I’ve heard of it. Who?’

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘Could you give me that cup to clean up, if you’re done with it?’

‘No, no, no cup for you until you tell me. Who? And work colleagues don’t count, so don’t say Professor Flitwick, or whatever…’

‘If I can’t say work colleagues, who else is left in a bloody school, Sirius?’

Sirius groaned. ‘Alright, alright, I’m bored of this conversation anyway.’

‘I need to talk to you later, though. Once we’re alone.’

‘Mysterious. Are you trying to seduce me, Remus?’

‘It’s just something I need to talk about to someone. Anyway, we better return, you’re being a terrible host.’

She heard the clatter of cups and plates falling into a sink and their footsteps leaving the room and into the foyer. She retracted the spell and put her wand back into her pocket. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands and left the bathroom. 

Luckily, nobody suspected her eavesdropping. When she emerged, she saw that Sirius hadn’t evicted Ginny from his chair and had taken another instead. Irritatingly, the only one left was placed next to Remus. She decided to show him just how much she didn’t care by sitting next to him, flopping onto the chair with what she hoped was an air of nonchalance. 

They all talked into the evening. When the light bleeding through the cracks of the boarded windows disappeared, Sirius guessed it was late. At eight o’clock they left as a group, with the exception of Remus, who, true to his word, needed to talk to Sirius in private. Hermione had an inkling of what it was about, but she couldn’t be sure. She decided she shouldn’t think it about it, whatever it was.


	12. Kicked Out

Hermione always found that November was a particularly inconspicuous month. As far as months go, it’s an uneventful one. 

She hadn’t visited Remus on the 26th, the night of the full moon. She’d spent the night in her bed all curled up and entangled in her bedsheets thinking about what exactly he was going through at that moment. At one point, when she was certain Lavender, Parvati and the others were asleep, she stood, holding her blankets over her shoulders like a cape, and tiptoed to the window where she sat and gazed at the moon for what felt like hours.

She’d met with Draco Malfoy regularly. One time she found him in the library, and her plans to do her work had flown out the window. Another time he was lurking around the kitchens, hoping for leftovers. She wasn’t sure how much he actually ate, but judging from the size of him, it wasn’t a lot.

Snape was the nicest he’d ever been to Hermione during Potions – he completely ignored her. Between Remus ignoring her and Snape, she was beginning to forget she wasn’t invisible. But she knew that Snape’s reasons were entirely justified. He clearly knew something about something, be it the spell, Draco, Draco’s father – she knew it went deeper. And she also knew that he didn’t want her poking her nose in.

She was beginning to think that Remus’s reasons for ignoring her, however, were not justified. She understood that he was embarrassed, and she could have understood if the shock factor was why he'd kept his distance for so long – but by the early weeks of December, she was at a loss for patience. She matched his attitude in his lessons; barely looking at him, silent, disinterested.

It was in the second week of December that the first eventful thing happened. Hermione was alone at breakfast, awake and ready before any of her friends and the vast majority of the Gryffindors. One of the few Slytherins that had rivalled her earliness was Draco Malfoy, who was sat with what she believed to be a cup of untouched coffee, his head in his hands.

And then Snape had entered the Great Hall, immediately striding straight over to Draco, bending down and whispering something to him. Snape, as usual, was impossible to read – particularly from the distance Hermione was at. But Draco was wholly different. His jaw had fallen open, he’d turned and stared at the professor in disbelief, shaking his head, and he’d stood, suddenly furious, almost running out the Great Hall. Hermione watched Snape walk to the staff table and immerse himself in the morning newspaper before acting. She downed the rest of her tea, wrapped a few bits of food in a napkin – toast, bacon, sausage – and headed after Draco, matching his speed.

Luckily the corridors were long and she saw the flash of blond hair at the very end, heading towards the entrance of the castle. She broke into a run, but he had too.

By the time she’d caught up with him, he was stood on the grounds near the gates, talking to a man. A little behind them was some kind of carriage. It wasn’t a Hogwarts carriage; it was larger, more elaborate, and looked a lot more expensive. The man was wearing a dark green, velvety uniform. She didn’t approach them at first, but took a few steps towards Draco, who did not react to her presence but was undoubtedly aware of it.

‘So he sent all this, did he?’ Draco snapped. Hermione almost flinched at the sound of his voice. The last few times she’d spoken to him, he’d been pleasant to converse with. He’d been soft-spoken, if direct, mild-mannered, if brutally honest – he’d been warmer, somehow. Now, though, he was speaking with a clipped accent, articulating each word sharply, precisely, with venom, but with a frighteningly cold anger. He sounded older. He sounded like his father, actually.

‘He said you would be needing it, sir,’ the uniformed man said coolly.

‘And what am I supposed to do with all this, hmm? Does he know how small the rooms are here? I’ve nowhere to put all of this.’

‘With all due respect, sir, your father did you a kindness by sending you your things. He said it would save you the trouble of returning home to collect them once you graduate.’

This silenced Draco. He waved his hand dismissively. The man nodded, smiling in this awful, irritating way, and drew his wand. The doors of the carriage opened gently. Out of them, a rather large amount of suitcases hovered out and landed on the ground in a dishevelled heap with a soft thud. 

‘Would you like some help carrying these in, Mr. Malfoy?’

‘No. Leave.’

The man nodded and hopped onto the front of the carriage. He glanced at Hermione and tipped his hat at her, before turning and leaving. She watched the carriage until it had disappeared from view before approaching Draco.

He’d given up his stoic demeanour and had sunk to his knees, his face in his hands.

Hermione looked at him pitifully. ‘You should’ve made him drag all these to your dorm himself,’ she said light-heartedly. 

He didn’t respond or react. 

She shifted on her feet uncomfortably. ‘So, uh, these suitcases…’ her gaze swept their surroundings, and she counted eight of them. ‘These are all your things from home?’

He nodded.

She hummed. ‘Well, um. I guess that man – as annoying as he was – is kind of right. I mean, it saves you going back home to get them all, right?’

He shook his head. He shifted from his crouching position to sit on one of the suitcases.

‘It means he’s not bluffing anymore. It means he’s serious. I’m out of his life. I’m not his son.’ 

His eyes were swollen, reddened and glazed. She bit her lip, and decided to join his side, perching on the other half of the suitcase next to him.

‘Listen,’ she said softly. ‘If he’s the sort of person who would abandon his son like this… threaten him with this, try and manipulate him, force him into something he didn’t want to do… it’s emotionally abusive, Draco. He is emotionally abusive. And in my eyes, that person isn’t a father at all. So, you’re not his son. That’s a blessing.’

Draco shut his eyes.

‘And, um,’ she continued, ‘you know what? I don’t know what it was that your father wanted you to do, obviously, but I can guess it was bad. Because he’s a bad person. And you stood up to him, and you stood up to your friends, because you believed that was the right thing to do, didn’t you? That’s so brave, Draco. He’s probably one of the most influential men in the wizarding world, and you stood up to him when not many would. I really respect that, okay? And that means you’re a good person. He doesn’t deserve someone as good as you in his life.’

Draco shook his head slowly. 

‘No, he doesn’t, honestly. You’re far better off without him.’

Draco just kept shaking his head.

‘Do you, uh, have any relatives you could stay with? Grandparents? Aunts and uncles, cousins…?’

Draco snorted. 

Hermione sighed. She’d figured that Lucius would make the effort to isolate Draco from the entirety of his family. He was a powerful and manipulative man. His hands were in the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge was his puppet. She imagined he had all of his own relatives on strings, too.

‘What about friends? Not Crabbe or Goyle or anyone like that, obviously… friends with good families.’

Draco laughed again, gazing up at the sky. ‘Don’t you get it? He’s fucked up my life. I have nobody.’

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘That isn’t true, Draco.’

‘It is.’

She shook her head. ‘It isn’t. And, uh, listen. Forget that, you don’t need anyone, right? You’re not stupid. You’ll graduate here, having aced your NEWTs – employers will be fighting all over you. And hey, your elite reputation alone will get you a job, regardless of grades. You’ll have a job and be earning before you even have the time to worry about it.’

Draco grimaced. ‘None of that is true. I’m failing all my classes.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think? Because I’m fucked up because of him, Granger,’ he spat. ‘I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m tired. I’m paranoid and anxious all the fucking time, because I don’t know who the hell I can trust, and who I can’t. I have nobody to talk to. The teachers all hate me, or they’re scared of me, or both. And as for my reputation?’ he barked out a laugh. ‘It’s nothing. It’s worse than that, actually, it’s tainted – he’ll make sure of it. No employer will ever be stupid enough to hire me – and I don’t blame them. I don’t know what my father would do to them if they did.’

She wasn’t sure what to say at first.

‘Okay,’ she breathed. ‘Well, we can sort all of this out, okay? But you have to co-operate with me. And you have to want it to be sorted out.’

Draco turned his gaze to her, and nodded slowly.

‘First, your health is the most important thing,’ she said. She was talking like she did when she was explaining something to the class – she couldn’t help it. ‘For your sleep, we can get you taking some sleeping draughts every evening. Hopefully that should sort out your sleeping patterns.’

He shrugged. 

‘And as for eating, that’s kind of important,’ she said, smiling. She reached into her pocket for her napkin holding her breakfast food. ‘Here, please. Eat it.’

He nodded and took it almost reluctantly. She watched him silently until he obediently started to eat.

‘But that won’t sort out everything, obviously,’ she said. She carefully placed her hand on his shoulder. He tensed immediately. She realised the last time she'd touched him was when she’d punched him in the face in her third year.

‘You need to talk to people, Draco. You can’t bottle all of this up, it isn’t healthy. You can talk to me as much as you like, okay? And there’s others, I’m sure.’

‘Who?’ he snapped. ‘There isn’t anyone.’

‘That isn’t true,’ she said reassuringly. She was lightly stroking him with her thumb in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. It seemed to be – he visibly relaxed a little.

‘If you ask for help, you will be answered,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot of people that care about you. You just don’t know it yet.’

He didn’t seem overly convinced. She sighed.

‘As for your classes,’ she said cheerfully, ‘you’re talking to the biggest nerd in the school, did you forget? I’d be delighted to help you, Draco. You’ll be doing better than ever before you know it, I promise. Would you like that?’

He didn’t react immediately, but eventually nodded slowly.

‘Good, brilliant,’ she exclaimed. ‘And you know what? You can trust lots of people. Nobody’s a threat at Hogwarts, it’s safe. You’ll be absolutely fine. And that’s why it doesn’t matter about your reputation. You might not get hired immediately, but that doesn’t matter. You have people to fall back on.’

He shrugged. 

‘Where am I supposed to put all this shit?’ he said. ‘My roommates already want me dead. If I put all this in here they won’t deal with it. They’ll probably set fire to it and throw it in the lake.’

‘What about Snape?’ she offered. ‘He cares about you, right? In his own way?’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that. Remember that time I almost killed you in class? Yeah, uh, after that, Snape was fucking furious. Never seen him so mad in my life. Apparently, he trusted me with that spell, and I abused it, so he doesn’t want anything to do with me.’

Hermione chewed her lip. She didn’t know what to say. That certainly wasn’t all her fault, but she still felt bad for him. At one point in her life she’d wished a horrible revenge on him – now, she only wanted the best.

Then a thought struck her. It was an uncomfortable one. But it was her only one.

She stood suddenly and turned to him. ‘Okay, listen, I know where we can put all these things. How much can you fit in your dorm?’

♦ ♦ ♦

Draco managed to fit about a suitcase’s worth into his dormitory. Hermione waited outside the Slytherin common room patiently, earning a good few odd looks from passing Slytherins. She didn’t care; she was just thankful she hadn’t bumped into any Gryffindors.

When he emerged from the common room he looked utterly helpless. ‘Seven suitcases left. I hope your plan is a good one, Granger.’

She nodded. She cast a levitation spell and the remainder of his luggage obediently rose and followed her like a faithful companion as she strode through the corridors. Draco was examining her curiously as they headed towards the staff’s offices. Then he twigged.

‘Oh,’ he said, a grin finding its way onto his face. ‘Going to recruit the assistance of Lupin, eh? Should’ve guessed.’

‘Shut up,’ she said. When they reached his office door she knocked on it sharply and waited. After a minute or so he emerged, tired-looking, dishevelled, and utterly surprised to see Hermione and Draco stood outside his door with seven flying suitcases.

‘Uh…’

‘Sorry, Professor, I hope I didn’t wake you,’ Hermione said. ‘The thing is, Draco and I require your help. We don’t know who else to turn to.’

‘I, uh…’ 

‘Do you mind?’ she said, glancing behind him.

Remus looked at her. Hermione was deliberately treating him with a professional indifference, the way she’d been treated by him for the past month or so.

‘No. I mean, yes, come in.’

She entered so swiftly and briskly that Remus had stumbled back a little and had to duck when the seven suitcases flew past at almost threatening speed. She turned and they dropped onto the floor instantly. Draco had followed with uncharacteristic timidity, clearly uncomfortable with being in his ex-professor’s rooms.

‘Basically, Draco has been evicted from his house,’ she stated.

Draco, who had been studying the situation with some amusement, had dropped his smug grin and was now glaring at Hermione. Remus looked at him.

‘Oh,’ he breathed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Draco. That must be very difficult.’

‘And his father has sent him all his things, as you can see, and he’s nowhere to keep all of it. I thought you could keep it in your rooms, for now.’

Remus looked at the suitcases sympathetically. ‘I suppose that would be okay. I mean, I do have the space…’

Hermione nodded approvingly. ‘Good. There, Draco. One problem solved. Right, I’ll see you on… Monday, is it, Professor?’

Remus was staring at her. She looked at him, and, frustratingly, a wave of guilt washed over her. He was looking at her so sadly. But he had no right to be upset – he’d treated her like this for weeks, after all. She shrugged off her guilt as best she could. She’d not worn the bracelet he’d given her for weeks now, and she was rather glad she didn’t have it on to remind her how awful she felt while doing this.

‘Wait, Hermione, please,’ he said pleadingly. She didn’t look at him.

‘Sorry, Professor, but Draco and I have quite urgent things to attend to, so unless it’s important…’

He didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘No. It’s fine.’ He sounded utterly awful.

‘Very well,’ she said curtly. ‘Come on, Draco.’ She dragged him by the sleeve and they exited, leaving Remus in the middle of the room surrounded by a ton of suitcases.

She shut the door loudly and purposefully behind them, and strode away from his rooms almost immediately. Draco had lingered initially, and had to break into a jog to catch up with her.

‘Why’d you have to be like that?’ he asked. She slowed her pace a little.

‘Like what?’

‘Like a standoffish bitch,’ he said, quirking an eyebrow. 

‘Oh, was I? That’s exactly what I was going for. I’m glad it came out like that.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ he drawled. ‘You two were best buddies for a while, weren’t you? Is this all still because he saw you naked? Get over it, Granger.’

‘It’s not just that,’ she murmured. ‘It’s how he treated me after that. He treated me exactly how I just treated him then. Like a standoffish bitch, to use your words,’ she sighed. ‘Right, we’re going to the dungeons now.’

‘Why?’ 

‘To see Snape, obviously,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘What? No!’

‘We need those draughts to help you sleep, don’t we? Where did you think we’d get them?’ 

They were turning onto the corridor that led to Snape’s dungeons, now. Draco was growing visibly anxious.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. When they reached the top of the stone steps he paused to stare warily at them.

‘Madam Pomfrey would need to take all kinds of tests, to prove you need them, and she’d give you the weak stuff, too… and she’d probably make you sleep in the hospital wing for a while. And trust me, you don’t want that.’

‘I don’t want this, either,’ he said. She shook her head and started down the steps. He took a few moments to follow.

For some reason, Hermione had found herself overcome with a great confidence. She had enjoyed this feeling of purpose that helping Draco had given her, and it has inspired some brilliant, empowering feeling. She flew down the steps, the descent into unbearably cold temperatures not bothering her in the slightest. Draco, however, audibly shuddered – she wasn’t sure whether it was the cold, or the fact Snape was down there.

When they reached the outside of his classroom, Hermione stopped and looked at the blond.

‘Do you want to wait out here while I talk to him?’ she asked.

He nodded, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. She gave him a reassuring look and entered without knocking.

‘Professor?’ she called.

The potions master poked his head round his office door, glaring at her. 

‘Granger? You can’t just-’

‘I need some sleeping draughts,’ she said.

He looked at her. He walked out from his office, studying her interestedly, his eyebrows furrowed.

‘What, exactly, makes you think you can just saunter in and demand potions from my stock?’ 

She shrugged. ‘Well, I made half of them.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Having trouble sleeping, Granger?’

‘They aren’t for me.’

‘Who, then?’

‘A friend,’ she said, shrugging.

‘There’s no such thing, is there?’ he drawled. ‘Unless you and Professor Lupin are… back on good terms,’ he said coolly.

She blinked at him. ‘What – I don’t know what you mean.’

Snape didn’t respond, and glanced at the stock of potions against the wall of the classroom. She followed his gaze to the sleeping draught section. It was full to maximum, and it was true that she’d made most of them in her detentions.

‘By friend, are you referring to the Mr. Malfoy standing outside my classroom?’ he asked.

‘Well, yes.’

He almost looked amused. ‘Friends? How interesting.’

‘Isn’t it,’ she said flatly. ‘I’d probably only need about-’ 

‘You can’t make demands, Granger,’ he snapped. ‘I make potions for Madam Pomfrey. Why not ask her?’

‘I figured it would be simpler to come directly to you,’ she said.

‘No. As you know, Granger, from your seven years of attending Hogwarts, I do not just give out potions to any old student.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Fine. Sorry I asked.’

He examined her silently as she turned to leave.

‘Though,’ he said suddenly. She stopped and twisted back to face him.

‘Maybe it isn’t fair to call you any old student,’ he said coolly. She didn’t like where this was going.

‘It isn’t?’

Snape pursed his lips. ‘Your work in your detention was… satisfactory. While your company is insufferable, your potion making isn’t…’ he looked like he was having difficulty speaking. ‘Terrible.’

‘Uh, thank you.’

‘I won’t be at Hogwarts for the holidays,’ he announced. ‘And as I’m sure you’re aware, the full moon is on the 26th of December.’

‘Yes?’

‘So I will not be around to brew the wolfsbane potion. It cannot be prepared too far in advance.’

Hermione wasn’t sure what he was saying. ‘So, uh, why are you telling me this?’

He strode towards the stock of potions, delicately plucking a vial of strong sleeping draught from the shelf and observing its contents. ‘Frustratingly, few fully appreciate the mechanics – the art – of potion making. You are – worryingly – the best substitute in my absence.’

She furrowed her eyebrows. ‘How did you know I’d be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays?’

‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Though that makes it far easier for you to make your decision.’

‘Decision?’

‘From the first day of my absence to the last, you will take control of my classroom. Cleaning, maintaining, brewing. You will make sure the ingredients are stocked. You will ensure that there is no lacking of potions. You will brew the wolfsbane potion for Lupin.’

‘You… you think I can do that?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Granger. I will teach you. But the last thing we need at Hogwarts is a rampaging werewolf running amok.’

‘And in exchange for me doing this, you’ll give me…’ she eyed the draughts. ‘I’m not sure if it’s worth it. I may go to Madam Pomfrey after all.’

Snape shot her a poisonous scowl. ‘You’re free to use whatever potions you desire. And experiment, should you wish. I must say, this opportunity is an extremely rare one. I wouldn’t be so frivolous.’

She pondered this. Her entire Christmas holidays spent in Snape’s dungeon? Then again, there’d be no Snape. Just herself, and free reign with all sorts of interesting concoctions. She did love potions – and with no Snape there, it would be perfect. Maybe she’d have Draco for company. She could even bring Crookshanks down.

‘Deal,’ she said, smiling. He nodded.

‘How many do you need?’ he said, glancing at the stock of sleeping draughts.

‘How many should regulate a sleeping pattern?’

‘About three, I imagine,’ he said, examining them thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps four.’ 

She approached him and took the four vials from the professor, whose attitude towards her was not unpleasant. He wasn’t friendly, but he wasn’t as hostile as usual. It was refreshing.

‘An invigoration draught may be effective in the mornings,’ he muttered. ‘To counteract the fatigue the former tend to cause.’ He plucked four from the shelves and handed them to her. She was struggling with the bulk of it all, and muttered a levitation spell to handle the overflow.

‘Thank you, Professor. That’s really kind of you.’

He scowled at her. ‘You will meet me here at 7 o’clock tomorrow morning and I will teach you how to brew the wolfsbane potion. Get it wrong, and…’ he trailed off, knowing she was aware of the consequences. She nodded, and left the dungeons before he changed his mind.

‘God,’ Draco whispered. He’d heard everything, seemingly. ‘Surprised that went so well.’

She shrugged nonchalantly and headed up the stairs. Breakfast was definitely over, by now, and she wasn’t sure how to spend the rest of her Saturday. Draco had taken the potions hovering beside her into his own hands. They agreed to take them back to his dormitory.

‘Any plans for today?’ she asked. He laughed.

‘Small talk, now?’ he said. ‘Yeah, I’m going out shopping with the girls, getting my hair done…’

‘Yeah, alright,’ she huffed. ‘I just don’t have anything to do, as all. I used to spend my Saturdays with Remus,’ she sighed.

Draco hummed. ‘I’m, uh, sorry that it’s not… great, between you two,’ he said quietly. She shrugged as though she didn’t care, but it was truly eating away at her.

‘Thanks, Draco.’ 

‘And, um,’ he’d stopped. They were near the great hall, but everyone was off spending their weekend doing something leisurely, and not many people were around.

‘Mm?’

‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘For, you know. Actually caring. Even though it’s kind of weird.’

She laughed. ‘It’s alright,’ she said. 

‘So you’re spending your holidays here, then?’ he said, motioning to their surroundings. 

She nodded.

‘Great. This’ll be a fun Christmas, then,’ he drawled. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Well, I’m looking forward to it.’

He shrugged. ‘I was joking, Granger. Uh, thanks again.’

He patted her shoulder awkwardly in what she assumed was a token of thanks, and she grinned.

‘It’s okay!’ she exclaimed. She threw the potions into levitation and wrapped an arm round his neck, pulling him into a hug. He looked absolutely terrified, craning himself away from her.

‘Christ – fuck off, Granger-’

‘Oh, don’t be like that, we’re friends now, this is what friends do-’

‘Hermione?’

She turned, her arm snapping back to her side. She felt all the colour drain from her face. Lavender and Parvati were stood gawking at her.

‘Oh my God!’ Parvati squealed.

‘It’s Malfoy?’ Lavender gasped. ‘That’s the guy you’re dating? Draco Malfoy? Merlin's-’

‘Uh, no, you utter morons,’ Draco snapped. They ignored him.

‘We’re just friends,’ Hermione explained. Though it was the truth, she cringed at her own words. Even to her, it sounded like an outright lie. 

‘Yeah, we’re sure, Hermione,’ Parvati giggled. 

‘See you later, Granger,’ Lavender said, winking and taking Parvati by the sleeve as she walked away. Hermione groaned.

‘Oh, for…’ 

‘Ignore them. Who cares.’ 

‘They’re now off to make an official announcement, you know that?’ she said. 

He shrugged. ‘Let them. They’ve nothing else to do in their miserable little lives.’

Hermione nodded. ‘They’re probably expecting me to run after them, begging them to keep it a secret.’

‘Well, don’t give them the satisfaction,’ he drawled. ‘I’ll see you later, Hermione.’

She grinned at him. 

‘Granger,’ he said hastily.


	13. Hogsmeade

Hermione was grateful that she had to spend her Sunday hiding away in Snape’s dungeon. She’d spent all day there, brewing small amounts of the wolfsbane potion again and again, Snape relentlessly scrutinising each and every detail, often wiping the cauldron clean and instructing her to start again, never once offering any actual encouragement. By the evening she was tired and hungry and admittedly very bored of it all. But, eventually, Snape was satisfied. He watched a vivid blue steam rise from the cauldron, with an expression planted on his face that almost indicated some kind of pride for his student. Then he’d thrown her out of the classroom.

The following week was full of misery. Naturally, everyone had found out that Draco was Hermione’s rumoured lover. Harry and Ron had been outraged and disgusted.

‘Malfoy? Bloody Malfoy, Hermione?’ Ron had snapped.

‘It’s all a lie,’ Hermione had tried to explain. ‘We’re friends, yes, but nothing more.’

Harry had actually believed her, while the Weasleys were still convinced she was dating Draco. However, Harry was equally revolted that she had befriended him.

‘What makes you think you can trust him?’ Harry had asked. She’d explained about Draco’s father – she’d told Harry everything she knew – but he wasn’t convinced. He had absolutely no sympathy, no understanding. She was hopelessly disappointed. She'd believed, despite Harry and Draco's history, Harry would be the one who could most easily empathise. 

It had been intense that week. She’d dealt with giggling roommates and she’d never felt more detached from her friends. She was hugely disappointed they were acting like this – though, she couldn’t blame them.

Luckily, that week would be their last. On Saturday the 19th was the last Hogsmeade trip of the year, and on the 20th, those going home for the holidays would leave the castle. As usual, the vast majority went home. Snape had left on the Friday, and she’d spent the evening milling around the empty classroom, ideas swimming around her head about what she could create over the next fortnight.

She awoke on the Saturday, breakfasting early and waited for what felt like an eternity for her friends to join her. But they didn’t. 

The thought that they were actually all waiting for her outside the castle struck her suddenly, and she rushed to the main entrance where everybody was gathering and heading down the path to Hogsmeade. She scanned the area, and realised they weren’t there. Even with the flurries of snow, she could make out every face – and none of them belonged to her friends.

Could they have left without her? Were they that mad she was friendly with Draco?

She decided to wait until she was the very last to leave. She was there a good while, her face pink from the cold, her clothes dampened with snow. Still they did not appear. 

That’s it then, she thought. They’ve left without me.

She often enjoyed the time to herself but the walk to Hogsmeade, alone, was agonisingly dull. She wondered whether she would better spend her time with Sirius – at least she hadn’t ruined that friendship yet. Though maybe Harry had told him about Draco and he didn’t want to see her either. Refreshingly, Draco hadn’t decided to ignore her or avoid her because of the rumours – it was nice that he didn’t care what others thought of him – but she didn’t want to fuel the gossip even further by spending every waking moment with him.

Maybe Draco’s my only friend, she thought. 

The thought was mildly terrifying.

When she arrived at Hogsmeade, she glanced around the beautiful little village with a strange sadness. Everybody was rushing around in their tight-knit little groups, shouting and laughing. The chubby-faced third years were unspeakably happy, faces filled with sweets and the like, weighed down with bags and bags of Christmas shopping. Even those in the older years didn’t even try to conceal their excitement; there were a good few seventeen to eighteen year olds running around sending snowballs flying through the air at one another. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card, its gorgeous little shops and round, smiling faces, all caked in perfectly fluffy white snow. It seemed so out of place to be sad here.

Her first stop was Tomes and Scrolls, where she picked up a couple of things for herself. She spent a long time in Zonko’s Joke Shop and Honeydukes, possibly the best places for picking up Christmas gifts. She stopped in a few more shops before tiring of shopping. She had most of the gifts she needed, anyway – and she really fancied a butterbeer.

The Three Broomsticks was buzzing as usual. Hermione was anxious that she’d bump into her friends all sat around laughing and having a good time without her, but luckily they was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, a free table was nowhere to be seen either. 

That was when her eyes fell upon a table with only one occupant. An empty chair sat opposite, and the occupant was none other than her DADA professor, staring into his half-empty jug of golden liquid with a thoughtful expression.

She took a deep breath and marched across the room to approach him. She flopped onto the empty chair without warning and he’d jumped with surprise when he saw who had sat opposite.

‘I hope this seat isn’t taken,’ she said.

‘Uh, no. It isn’t,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Well, now it is, apparently.’

She raised an eyebrow. She turned to glance at Madam Rosmerta at the bar, who smiled and nodded and busied herself with pouring out a pint. 

‘Were you deep in thought, there?’ she asked.

‘You could say that,’ he murmured. 

Neither of them spoke. Remus just stared into his drink. Hermione looked at him.

‘So how are you?’ he asked.

She stared at him.

‘Are you serious, Remus?’ she said flatly. ‘You can’t ignore me for months and then just go, ‘how are you’.’

He blinked at her. 

‘See,’ she began, ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a long time, but I didn’t want to come across as needy, or clingy, or pathetic, or whatever,’ she shook her head. ‘But I’ve realised I don’t care, anymore. Those are just words misogynists use to describe women who’re assertive about how they feel.’

Remus bit his lip. ‘I’d probably agree with you on that one,’ he said.

Madam Rosmerta approached the table and handed Hermione the pint of butterbeer. She smiled and thanked her before continuing.

‘So, after you walked into the Prefects’ bathroom and saw me naked, I was pretty embarrassed, as you can imagine,’ she said bluntly.

He reddened slightly. 

‘And so I understand why you’d be embarrassed too, but at the same time, I didn’t see why you couldn’t just shrug it off and we could just laugh about it and put it behind us,’ she said. ‘I mean, I actually enjoyed talking to you, you know.’

‘Have you prepared this speech?’ he asked. Was that a smirk she saw on his lips? She glared at him.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ she groaned. ‘This is me, trying to put it behind us, so we can go back to being friends.’

Remus considered her for a moment before sighing and shrugging.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said finally. ‘When that happened I just felt… awful. And I couldn’t face you after that, so I cancelled, and then at the Shrieking Shack I didn’t know how to act so I just…’ he grimaced. ‘I mean, I had no idea how you felt. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.’

She shook her head. ‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? Let’s just forget it. We’ve got Christmas together, after all,’ she said, raising her eyebrows and grinning.

‘Should be a fun one,’ he muttered. ‘Snape’s off gallivanting to God knows where – he left yesterday, did you know? He couldn’t brew my wolfsbane. It doesn’t last more than seven days.’ He shook his head. ‘Typical. Two more days and he could’ve done it, but it was all, ooooh, it’s non-negotiable, I have to leave on Friday, sorry Luuupin...’

Hermione smirked at his frankly awful impression of Snape, but she was slightly confused. ‘Wait, he didn’t tell you? He’s left me in charge of brewing it. I’m going to do it tomorrow.’

He gazed at her with disbelief. ‘You – you’re doing it?’

‘Don’t look so scared,’ she said. ‘He taught me. I’ve learnt it to every painstaking detail. I’m confident I can brew it correctly.’

‘I’m – I’m sure you can, Hermione,’ he said. ‘I’m just shocked he’s left you in charge. Or anyone in charge. I mean, if it would be anyone, it’d be you, but even so.’

She shrugged. ‘He wanted a substitute potions master while he was away. I get free rein of the dungeon,’ she added excitedly.

Remus was in shock. ‘Christ. That man never ceases to surprise me,’ he mused. He examined her once more. ‘You can really brew the potion?’

She nodded. 

‘That’s amazing, Hermione,’ he breathed. ‘You know that Snape is the only one entrusted with that responsibility? He’s one of a handful in the entire country.’

She smiled, feeling a little wonderful. She’d missed talking to him like this.

‘It’s not easy,’ she said, shrugging. 

He hummed and smiled warmly at her. She felt this lovely swelling in her chest.

‘I heard about you and Draco,’ he said suddenly, cocking an eyebrow.

When she let out a huge groan he laughed loudly and let his head fall into his hands.

‘I’m guessing my suspicions are correct, then,’ he said, grinning. 

‘And your suspicions are?’

‘That it’s complete and utter shit.’

She snorted, biting down her smile that wouldn’t go away. ‘We’re friends, but that’s all. I feel bad for him.’

‘He can come to me, you know,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I know a thing or two about feeling out of place.’

She smiled sadly at him. ‘I think that’s why I’ve been able to empathise with him, too.’

He nodded, taking a large swig of butterbeer. She couldn’t help but notice how really bloody good he looked. He shouldn’t look good – it was just over a week to the full moon. But he looked… good. Too good. Good, good, good.

She suddenly had a thought.

‘So,’ she said slowly.

‘So.’

‘What do you think?’

He looked at her confusedly. ‘About what?’

‘About me?’ she said innocently, quirking an eyebrow. It took him a moment. She knew when it had dawned on him – he’d flushed scarlet from the neck above.

‘Oh God, Hermione, don’t.’

‘It’s purely academic,’ she insisted. ‘You’re the only one who’s seen me with no clothes on, you know – I’d like an objective, scientific opinion, that’s all.’

He’d buried his face in his hands. ‘Stop it.’

‘What’s the problem?’ she said, unable to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. ‘I’m being absolutely serious. What did you think?’

‘This is so wrong,’ he said, his words muffled through his hands. 

‘Oh come on,’ she pleaded. ‘If you act like that I’ll assume it’s bad and you’ll hurt my feelings.’

‘I thought it was supposed to be purely academic?’ he said, narrowing his eyes at her. 

‘Oh, it is. Tell me, then.’

‘Do you want me in Azkaban?’

She huffed. 

He was still very flushed when he removed his hands from his face. She studied him.

‘Why did you feel so guilty?’ she asked.

He chewed his lip. She watched him. God, he looked… good.

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged. He smiled weakly. ‘Self-pity is a forte of mine.’

She knew what she wanted to say. She shouldn’t say it, but she wanted to. So she did.

‘Is it because you kind of… lingered?’ 

He stared at her blankly. Somehow, he actually managed to flush a deeper shade of red. She didn’t think it possible, but there he was, a human tomato, and a rather attractive one at that. 

‘I – I didn’t – I did not linger, Hermione.’

‘See, I think you did.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. 

‘If I did – and I’m not saying I absolutely did, I’m saying if, and only if – it was because I was shocked. I didn’t know what to do. It took me a moment to register everything. That’s all.’

She quirked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, lifting up her mug to take a swig of her drink.

He watched her for a moment. ‘That, and you have lovely tits,’ he murmured.

She almost spat out her drink. 

‘What – what did you just say to me?’

But Remus was already laughing raucously, at both what he’d said and her astonished response. She couldn’t help but join in. She’d not seen him dissolve into such childish giggles since… ever, actually. She shook her head and tried to look angry, but didn’t do a very good job of it.

‘I’m joking, I am, I’m sorry,’ he managed to say through his fits of laughter. ‘Well, not entirely.’

It was Hermione’s turn to blush now and he seemed to absolutely revel in it. His eyes were shining wonderfully and he had a brilliant smile that she didn’t see nearly enough of. 

‘Look at me, giggling like I’m still at school,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, Hermione, that was unspeakably unprofessional of me.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said, pursing her lips and seemingly unable to look him in the eye.

‘Mm. Good.’ He breathed deeply. ‘So, uh, where is everyone?’

‘Everyone?’

‘Harry, Ron…’ he gazed around the room. 

Hermione frowned, and Remus’s smirk fell from his face. He looked at her with concern.

‘Is everything alright?’

She shook her head. ‘They didn’t meet with me today. I don’t know where they are. It’s been a difficult week, since they found out about Draco.’ She sighed. ‘They’re not happy with it. They don’t trust him. I see why, but…’ 

Remus pursed his lips. ‘So they’re ignoring you?’

Hermione shrugged. Remus looked at her sympathetically. 

‘Well, they’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t they?’ he said. ‘I’ll have a word with Sirius. I’m seeing him later on today, at The Hog’s Head,’ he said quietly.

She nodded and smiled gratefully at him. 

Outside, a thick blanket of snow had cloaked the village. As it always was in holiday season, it was bustling with people – not just Hogwarts students, but witches and wizards from all walks of life. She recognised a lot of the Hogwarts students that were rushing about – she could have sworn she saw Dean and Seamus walk past with arms linked, in fact. Inside, It was incredibly cosy. Somehow, despite it being crowded with people, she felt very alone with Remus. She adored this intimacy. It was unmatched, totally unrivalled by anything else.

‘What do you want for Christmas?’ she asked him suddenly.

He looked a bit amused by the question. ‘Oh, I don’t need anything, Hermione. But thank you.’

‘I didn’t ask what you need,’ she said. ‘I asked what you want.’

He sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

She huffed. 

‘What do you want?’ he asked.

‘No, you can’t ask that, not after you refuse me an answer.’

He mimicked her huffing and she glared at him. ‘Books are good,’ she mumbled.

‘Don’t you already have… you know… every book ever written?’ he asked.

She chuckled and shrugged. She always got a hefty amount of tomes given to her every Christmas. It was nice, and a safe bet. But she secretly hoped he’d think of something a little more personal, if he gave her anything at all.

She knew exactly what to get him, though.

It was a huge relief to Hermione that she was back on good terms with Remus. She hadn’t totally realised the extent to which she’d missed him – it was only then, as they chatted away the afternoon about anything and everything, that she truly remembered how much she adored his company. She’d started to have second thoughts about staying at Hogwarts for the summer – but perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

They were starting to lose some light outside, and Hermione didn’t want to walk back to Hogwarts in the dark, unescorted. Luckily, her plans correlated with Remus’s, who had arranged to meet with Sirius shortly. They left the pub together and stood outside for a moment before parting ways.

‘So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said.

‘You’ll see me for the next fortnight, Hermione,’ he said, grinning. ‘But yes, tomorrow. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to accompany you while you brew the wolfsbane.’ He paused. ‘Not that I’m monitoring you or that I don’t trust you, or anything,’ he added quickly.

She smirked. ‘I’d love the company.’

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets, shivering. ‘Are you going back to the castle, now?’

She hummed. ‘I have to make a quick stop, but yes.’

He pondered her for a moment before taking a deep breath. ‘Well, I’ll see you later.’

‘Say hi to Sirius for me.’

‘I shall,’ he said. She beamed at him and he matched her smile.

They shuffled about on their feet for a moment before finally parting, each heading in the opposite direction. She turned and watched him walk away for a while – he didn’t look back, to her mild disappointment – before heading over to Hogsmeade’s craft shop for one last stop.

♦ ♦ ♦

She was halfway on the path to Hogwarts when a flash of blonde and orange appeared at her side.

‘Hello, Hermione,’ Luna said. Hermione blinked at her and looked around. She had literally appeared out of nowhere.

‘Uh, hi Luna.’

The blonde smiled at her. They trudged through the snow together, side by side.

‘Where are Harry and Ron?’ Luna asked. ‘It’s a rare thing to see you alone.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I didn’t see them today. I’ve no idea where they are. But, you know, we’ve not been the best of friends all week, since…’ she glanced at the other witch. 

She hummed. 

‘It’s a kind thing, caring for Draco,’ Luna mused. ‘Everyone is good, really. Some people just need a bit of encouragement to show it.’

Hermione couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. 

‘Thank you, Luna. That’s a really lovely thing to say.’

Luna nodded. ‘You’re welcome.’

They walked on, admiring the light snowfall.

‘What are you doing this Christmas, Luna?’ Hermione asked.

‘Oh, I’m just spending it with my dad. We’re having dinner round the Weasleys’, of course,’ she said. ‘Since my mum died we’ve enjoyed company. But mostly we’re happy with each other.’

Hermione looked at her sympathetically. She suddenly found herself missing her parents terribly.

‘I hope you have a wonderful time,’ Hermione said. Luna beamed at her.

‘You too. What’s that in your bag?’

Hermione looked down. She was pointing to her brown paper bag from the craft shop.

‘Oh, uh, some wool.’

‘Are you knitting clothes for the house elves, again?’ Luna asked. She wasn’t being sarcastic – it was a genuine question. Hermione rather liked that about Luna.

‘Oh, no. Not this time. It’s for a gift.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Luna said dreamily. ‘Will you be joining us on Christmas Day?’

Hermione thought about this. She didn’t really know where she was with her friends. Ron had been especially angry, in fact, and the entire Weasley family disliked the Malfoys intensely. Lucius and Arthur had a famous rivalry. It would be lovely to visit – but she’d feel guilty about leaving Draco to himself. Maybe she, Remus and Draco could spend their Christmas in each other’s company instead…

‘I’d like to, but… it’s complicated,’ she said finally.

Luna seemed to understand – she didn’t press her for information. She was incredibly easy company – and she very much enjoyed spending her walk with her. They made pleasant conversation about Christmas shopping, the holidays and some bizarre creature that Hermione believed to be almost certainly imaginary, before Luna changed the subject.

‘You know, Ginny doesn’t think ill of you for befriending Draco,’ Luna said.

‘She doesn’t?’

Ginny had been quiet and oddly unreadable upon finding out. She didn’t care for Draco, but she seemed conflicted. Hermione hadn’t felt able to confront her for her opinion.

‘No, not at all. I think she’s surprised. Personally, I like surprises.’

‘I can’t say I’m a fan,’ Hermione muttered. They were approaching Hogwarts now, the castle looming over them. It was almost dark, however, and Hermione just wanted to eat and go back to her dorm for an early night, and hopefully be asleep by the time her roommates arrived. 

‘You should talk to them. Before they leave,’ Luna said.

‘I’ll, uh, try.’

Luna nodded and smiled. ‘I hope you have a good evening, Hermione. I’m off to find some of my things – people have been hiding them round the school again.’

Hermione frowned at the girl, but she seemed happy enough about it.

‘See you soon, Luna.’


	14. The New Potion Master

The morning of the 20th December was fraught. Everyone was rushing around, chasing after their owls, cats and toads, looking frantically for their things they’d not seen for months, packing suitcases to the brim and only just about balancing piles of Christmas presents in their arms. Hermione had risen early, as usual, and had decided to sit in the Gryffindor common room cosied up in an armchair with Crookshanks on her lap, observing the chaos in her own little bubble of calm.

In fact, she was sat still in her pyjamas, a cup of hot chocolate at her side, starting her knitting. She’d forgotten how therapeutic it was. She’d picked a wonderfully soft, thick wool in a royal blue colour, and enjoyed its touch as she wound it round the needles and made stitch after stitch. 

She watched Neville rush past – he was perhaps missing more than everyone else put together – and sighed a little. In a few hours the train would arrive in the nearby station and almost everybody would be leaving. She’d not spent Christmas at Hogwarts since her third year, and she was just starting to remember how empty the castle would be in only a short time. Right now, though, it was buzzing.

She had made good progress on her knitting when she was finally approached. Ginny was stood in front of her, struggling under the weight of suitcases and bags, looking a little uncomfortable. She avoided Hermione’s gaze when she spoke.

‘So, uh…’ she mumbled. ‘I hope you can come round on Christmas day, Hermione. It won’t be the same without you there.’

Hermione chewed her lip. ‘Yeah, I’ll certainly think about it.’

Ginny nodded. ‘So you’ll be here the whole two weeks?’

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘Oh, she won’t be lonely, Ginny, don’t worry,’ Ron said, who had strode over from the entrance to the boys’ dormitory. ‘She’s got Malfoy, remember?’

‘Oh shut up, Ron,’ Hermione said angrily. ‘You’re the main reason I’m so against coming round, you know.’

Ron shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Whatever. See you in the new year, then. C’mon, Ginny.’

‘Ron-’

But he’d grabbed his sister by the arm and Ginny had left her friend with an apologetic look before following her brother out of the common room. Hermione tried to swallow the lump in her throat and hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

It was only a few minutes later Harry had appeared from the staircase too, and had stood watching her for a moment before approaching her. 

‘You here to wish me a horrible Christmas, too?’ she snapped.

Harry blinked at her confusedly. ‘What? Why would I – oh,’ he said flatly, realising who she was referring to. ‘I’m sorry, Hermione. He’s just, uh, he doesn’t get it.’

Hermione stared at him. ‘And you do?’

Harry looked at his feet. ‘Well, uh, not really. You know Malfoy and I just…’

‘Oh, yes, I forgot you’re sworn enemies. How silly of me,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry looked embarrassed. ‘He’s hated me since first year, Hermione. Or… did. Whatever. You said he’s changed and he’s actually an alright guy now and I don’t really know what to believe but…’ he sighed. ‘I trust you. And apparently Lupin does, too… Sirius had a word with me and… Sirius doesn’t trust Malfoy particularly either, but he thinks we should be civil to each other at least. So, uh. Come round on Christmas. I’ll talk to Ron.’ 

Hermione nodded. ‘Okay.’

Harry gave her a small smile and outstretched his arms, looking at her expectedly. She grinned and stood and wrapped herself around him, though accidentally jammed a knitting needle into her friend’s shoulder. He yelped.

‘Oi!’

‘Sorry, sorry…’ she said, giggling. 

‘What’s that for?’ he said, furrowing his eyebrows at her knitting. ‘Oh, you’re not trying to free the elves again, are you?’

She shot him a look. ‘No. It’s a gift.’

‘Who for?’ 

‘None of your business.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Have a good Christmas, Hermione. I’ll see you on Friday.’

She nodded, smiling at her friend. He gave her a final wave before lugging his things out of the common room. He was one of the last to leave. And soon, it was eerily quiet.

♦ ♦ ♦

Hermione spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon knitting and doing some homework she’d been set over Christmas. When the clock struck four, she realised it was probably about time she began her duties in the dungeons.

Crookshanks had followed her with great curiosity as she headed to the dungeons, nipping at her ankles playfully, orange tail swaying. Crookshanks adored the dungeons. He’d curled up on Snape’s chair immediately, and Hermione had hastily shooed him off, fearful Snape would somehow sense the cat’s illegal presence in his dungeons. 

As she prepared a cauldron for the production of wolfsbane, she used an enchanted quill to write down everything she said aloud, verbally noting all that needed doing. She wondered how often Snape cleaned around the dungeon. It was a bit of a mess, though she wasn’t surprised he hadn’t made much of an effort for her. 

She’d ended up with a rather ample list of things to do over the fortnight by the time she’d set up everything she needed for the potion. She’d began on the first ingredient when a figure appeared in the doorway. She looked up, her heart skipping a beat – but it wasn’t who she expected. It was Draco.

‘Oh, hello Draco,’ she said, smiling at him. She silently scorned herself for being so girlishly silly about Remus.

‘Mm,’ he grunted in greeting. He glanced about the room. ‘So. You decided to stay, after all.’

‘You thought I wouldn’t?’

‘I half expected you to run off home at the last minute,’ he muttered, entering the room a little way and pulling up a stool to perch upon. 

‘Well, here I am,’ she shrugged. She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘How on earth could I pass up two weeks with you, Draco?’ 

He sneered at her.

‘How’s everything with your little mates?’ he asked, seemingly trying to look disinterested, but watching Hermione intently. ‘I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be loyal. Suppose that’s bullshit. Like everything about this school…’

‘I guess in their eyes I haven’t been loyal,’ she shrugged, carefully adding the first ingredient into the cauldron. It bubbled. ‘I think Ginny is… okay… and Luna was very nice to me. Ron is just angry though.’ She shook her head. ‘I think he’ll calm down. He’s a bit of a hothead, but it’s just because he cares so much.’

‘And Potter?’ Draco asked quickly. He was picking at his nails and not looking at her.

She eyed him for a moment before answering. ‘I think he’s surprised and a little suspicious, frankly, but he wants to support me. Honestly, I think they all just need time.’

Draco grunted in what was perhaps a half-hearted agreement. Crookshanks leapt onto the table beside him and started to rub against him. It wasn’t until he saw Hermione gazing at the two of them that his smile dropped and he shooed the ginger cat away.

‘How are you, then?’ she asked, starting on slicing up the next ingredient. 

‘Eh?’

‘Your sleeping, eating.’

He shrugged. She looked at him. He did look better, admittedly. He wasn’t quite so pale – he was still pale, but not quite as corpselike – and he seemed to have gained a bit of weight. He seemed to be heading in the right direction.

‘Alright,’ he said finally.

‘Did the potions help?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Uh… thanks for that, by the way,’ he said quietly. She smiled.

‘You don’t have to keep thanking me,’ she said. ‘When do you want to start tutoring?’

‘Tutoring?’

‘Did you already forget?’ she said, cocking an eyebrow. She added the next ingredient into the cauldron and tapped her wand at its rim. She would need to leave it to boil for a while. She lifted herself onto a nearby stool opposite the blond.

‘I assumed you had better things to do,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Or people to do…’

She narrowed her eyes at him. He smirked. 

‘How is the werewolf?’

‘We’ve put what happened behind us,’ she said hastily. 

‘Good. I was worried he’d take out any resentment on my things…’ 

She huffed. 

‘So you’re still on a mission to save me, then, Granger?’ he drawled. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Well, I thought we could have a look at all your classes, and see where you are with each of them… we can then prioritise the most important ones, as well as the ones that you need the most help with, and then we’ll get into specifics like where you’re falling behind and how to quickly get those grades back on track,’ she was getting a little too enthusiastic, and when she saw Draco looking at her with a cocked eyebrow and a bored expression, she cleared her throat and calmed herself down. ‘Maybe we could meet here if you’d like to bring all your things. Or we can go to the library, or somewhere else. Everywhere is pretty quiet now.’

He shrugged. ‘Okay. Whatever.’

‘Okay.’

They shared a minute filled with somewhat uncomfortable silence, save for the noise of the bubbling cauldron.

‘So you’re, uh, friendly with Lupin again, eh?’ 

‘Can we not talk about this? Can we talk about… literally anything else?’

Draco sighed. ‘When he was ignoring you he was all you would bloody talk about. Now…’ he rolled his eyes.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to talk about him in general,’ she huffed. ‘It’s just that I know what you’re going to say and ask.’

Draco smirked. ‘What am I going to say? And ask?’

‘You’re just going to keep talking about sex and I don’t want to talk about that.’

Draco held up his hands in surrender. ‘Alright, alright. I didn’t realise you were so defensive.’

‘You’re defensive,’ she muttered. She ignored his stupid grin, watching Crookshanks prowl around the dungeon.

‘Are you getting him anything for Christmas?’ he said, his voice high-pitched and girly, apparently trying to mimic her own. She scowled at him.

‘I’m, uh, working on something, yes.’

‘I’ve got an idea. A present you could give him,’ he said slyly.

‘Shut up.’

‘You should suck his-'

‘Draco!’ she snapped.

‘Um…’

Hermione and Draco both turned to the doorway, where a rather bemused-looking Professor Lupin was stood, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione felt the heat rising in her face, only fuelled by Draco’s not-so-subtle sniggering. She glared at him.

‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ Remus asked, stepping cautiously into the dungeon.

‘No, no. We’re just talking about, uh…’ she looked at Draco, who was making very little effort to conceal his amusement. ‘Tutoring. We’re going to study over the holidays. Aren’t we, Draco?’

He raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Yeah.’

Hermione could have smacked him.

‘Right, right.’ Remus’s eyes fell onto the cauldron and he started towards it, gazing at its contents. ‘Looking good, there, Hermione.’

Draco snorted, and Hermione shot him her iciest look. 

Remus’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes darting between the two of them. He eventually cleared his throat and pulled up a chair nearer to Draco. The blond watched him almost warily.

‘So, Draco,’ Remus said softly. ‘How are you?’

‘Uh, fine.’

‘That’s great,’ Remus said encouragingly. Draco just looked at him. 

‘You’re coping with everything, then?’ Remus asked. 

‘Yep.’ 

‘That’s great. That’s really… great.’

Hermione had started on the next ingredient but hadn’t stopped watching the exchange. 

Remus had leant forward in his chair slightly, his hands clasped together, wearing a gentle yet serious expression. Hermione wondered whether he practised that expression in the mirror.

‘You’re looking very well,’ Remus continued. ‘And, uh, you’re free to keep your suitcases in my rooms as long as you need to. Until graduation, need be.’

‘Thanks,’ Draco said, watching the other man, half-amused, half-suspicious. 

‘And if you ever need to, uh, have a chat, about… stuff…’

‘What kind of stuff?’ Draco asked.

Remus blinked. ‘Anything. Um, school. Graduation. A career. Finding somewhere to live. Or just whatever you want to talk about, I’d be happy to listen. If that’s… cool.’

Hermione couldn’t help but grin at the fact Remus had said the word ‘cool’ in what was possibly the most awkward usage of the phrase ever.

Draco stared at him. ‘Are you trying to bond with me, or something?’ he asked.

Remus seemed to be having trouble talking. ‘I, uh… sorry.’ He lent backwards and cast a look at Hermione. She just shook her head, smiling at him.

‘This’ll be done soon,’ she said, motioning to the wolfsbane. It was beginning to develop the right colour and consistency, and she found herself immensely proud of her achievement.

‘Severus should be impressed,’ Remus mused. ‘He may not show it, but I believe he has great respect for those who appreciate potion making. And even better, those who are good at it.’

Hermione shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah, we know. Granger is good at everything,’ Draco drawled. Remus cocked an eyebrow.

‘Severus – Professor Snape – often spoke of your natural talent of potions, Draco,’ Remus offered.

‘Yeah, I bet he doesn’t anymore,’ Draco said, grimacing. ‘When he did it was just bullshit, anyway, because he used to get on with my family. Not anymore. And now he hates me too. So yeah,’ he let out a sigh. ‘I can’t imagine that he brags about his star pupil anymore, somehow.’

Hermione offered Draco a sympathetic look, one that Remus had matched. Draco laughed at the two of them.

‘Don’t fucking look at me like that,’ he said. 

There was a short silence before anyone spoke again. 

‘Where is Professor Snape?’ Hermione asked suddenly, more to Remus than Draco. Draco looked at Remus.

‘I… I’m not certain, actually. I was just told it was business.’

Draco nodded, clearly somewhat disinterested, and turned his attention to the ginger cat now at his feet, purring and rubbing against his ankles. Hermione, however, watched Remus slightly suspiciously. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard Remus lie to her before. Yet, if she had to guess, he was lying now.

Remus had changed the subject to their studies and plans for the holidays, and they talked for a while until a blue steam rose from the cauldron, and Hermione couldn’t help but exclaim her excitement.

‘I’ve done it!’ she squealed. ‘It’s worked! It’s done!’

Draco rolled his eyes and groaned as Hermione fussed about the cauldron, turning the heat down low and letting the potion simmer. She grabbed the seven vials she’d prepared earlier and began to pour it out carefully, meticulously filling each to the brim and not spilling a drop. Draco had leant towards the cauldron to touch the thick blue liquid and she smacked away his hand. He swore at her, but she was too excited and enthusiastic to respond. She’d just made one of the most complex potions there is, and she’d done it with great success. When she’d emptied the cauldron into the seven vials, she stacked them into the crate and handed them to Remus, who was beaming at her proudly and with reverence.

‘That’s fantastic, Hermione,’ he said, taking the crate in his arms and smiling from ear to ear. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve really saved me.’

Hermione shrugged but couldn’t push down her smile. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

Remus raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort when Draco interrupted.

‘Honestly, Granger’s head is big enough already,’ he sighed.

‘I’m just very grateful. And happy that there’s now two people able to brew the wolfsbane potion in the school. Only a few people in the entire country can, you know, Draco.’

Draco said nothing, only eyeing Remus with a strange expression. Remus turned to Hermione.

‘After you’ve attended to your various other duties,’ he began, glancing about the dungeon, ‘could you come to my office? I’d like a word.’

‘Of course,’ she said. He nodded and left her with a little grin before exiting the dungeon. Draco and Hermione listened until his footsteps could no longer be heard. 

‘I see why you like him,’ Draco said, stretching and letting out a massive sigh. Hermione noted that the boy had this way of coming across as totally disinterested.

‘Oh?’

‘He’s exactly like you,’ Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. ‘As somewhat of a narcissist, I see why that would appeal to you.’

‘I am not a narcissist,’ Hermione snapped. She tapped her wand on the edge of the cauldron, muttering tergeo, and the remnants of the deep blue liquid disappeared. She began to gather and clean up the rest of the things she’d used as she spoke. ‘And I don’t see how he’s so like me. I think we’re very different.’

Draco shook his head. ‘You’re both… clever.’ He said the last word with a certain distaste.

‘Lots of people are. Everyone’s clever to different extents.’

‘That’s not what I mean,’ he said. ‘Academic, bookish. You both fancy yourselves as wise and all-knowing.’

‘We do not,’ Hermione said.

Draco ignored her. ‘You’re both caring, in this unbearable, righteous way. But you’re also both social outcasts. Muggle-born. Werewolf. And you know it, so you’re both… awkward.’

Hermione shook her head, but couldn’t help but consider what he was saying. ‘There are areas in which we differ, though. And anyway, there are other reasons I like him, other than sheer compatibility.’

Draco smirked. ‘Is he dreamy?’ he teased.

‘Oh, shut up.’

♦ ♦ ♦

Hermione swept the cauldron clean and produced a good batch of different potions to fill up Snape’s inventory. But because she’d made so many, she realised the stock of ingredients was running dangerously low. She’d need to spend the next few days replenishing that, which meant wandering about the grounds collecting what she could find, and stopping in Hogsmeade to purchase the rest. She hoped none would be too expensive. Snape wasn’t paying her for this, after all.

It was rather late when she’d finished. Draco had spent the day with there. When he wasn’t being an annoying, smarmy git, he was pleasant company. He was surprisingly witty and insightful, and even more surprising, empathetic and not all that judgemental when he wanted to be. The absence of his father in his life had done him some good, she thought.

They parted ways in the evening, Draco to the great hall to take some food to his delightfully empty dormitory, Hermione to Remus’s office.

He’d answered the door promptly and let her in gladly. She noticed one empty vial of wolfsbane stood on his desk, along with six full ones, and watched it for a moment before Remus spoke.

‘It was fine, before you ask. Completely ordinary. You did incredibly well,’ Remus said. He was already preparing a pot of tea. ‘I shall be singing your praises to Professor Snape.’

Hermione laughed, but the mention of Snape had reminded her about something.

‘Earlier,’ she said, sitting down on her usual chair, ‘you mentioned Snape was on… business.’

‘Mm.’

‘And that you don’t know anything else.’

‘That’s right,’ he said, not looking at her as he passed her a cup of tea.

She quickly thanked him before continuing. ‘Is that… true?’

He barked out a laugh. ‘Are you calling me a liar, Miss Granger?’

Hermione’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘Well, surely you know what kind of business. Is it, you know, Order business?’

Remus smirked. ‘Oh, no, not that kind of business. Didn’t I tell you? Severus has opened a florists. He sells the most beautiful arrangements you’ve ever seen.’

Hermione sighed. ‘You aren’t funny, you know.’

‘Oh, you wound me,’ he said, clutching his chest. When she just looked at him, he sighed. 

‘Oh, alright. Yes, it is Order business,’ he said quietly. ‘But it’s… complicated. Dumbledore and Snape aren’t together. Dumbledore is meeting with various other members of the Order and negotiating plans. Snape…’ he bit his lip. ‘I really shouldn’t be telling you this.’

Hermione gazed at him. ‘Please?’

Remus pondered her for a moment, before looking away, running his hands through his hair and letting out a rather loud sigh. ‘Alright, okay. Severus has taken on a rather dangerous role. He’s a… double agent, I suppose you could say.’

‘Double agent?’ Hermione repeated. It took a moment for the words to sink in. ‘Wait, you mean – he’s a death eater?’ she whispered.

‘Pretending to be one,’ he corrected, a little severely. ‘We need a man on the inside. Given his history and his commitment to Albus… I supported the decision.’

‘And the death eaters,’ Hermione said cautiously, ‘they think, what, he’s a double agent too? But that he’s actually on their side?’

‘That’s what we’re hoping, yes,’ Remus said. He chewed his lip. ‘I know it’s tempting to let your mind wander, and debate where his loyalties lie, Hermione,’ he said, ‘but I assure you. Snape can be trusted. Despite our differences, I’ve never met a man so devout to Dumbledore and the cause. I have great respect for the man.’

Hermione nodded. She trusted Remus wholly. If he trusted Snape, she did too.

Remus cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. ‘So, I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.’

‘Oh, yes, sorry.’

‘Should you decide to spend Christmas at the Burrow, I’ve set up a portkey to get there,’ he said. He pointed to his desk. It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about – a single, slightly tattered leather glove, sat amongst his stacks of papers, books and chocolate wrappers quite inconspicuously.

‘That glove?’ she asked.

‘It was, uh, the first thing I grabbed,’ he explained. ‘So, will you? Spend Christmas over there?’

Hermione sighed. ‘I want to, I do. But Ron isn’t my biggest fan at the moment, and I’m sure Harry is still uncomfortable with everything, though he’s been more forgiving.’

Remus nodded. ‘That’s because Ron’s jealous,’ he said wisely.

Hermione blinked. ‘Jealous?’

‘I think the rumours circling you about your love affair with Mr. Malfoy struck a nerve,’ Remus said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of tea. 

‘You think he…?’

‘Oh, I know,’ Remus said. ‘I think he’s quite taken with you, and protective by nature.’

Hermione felt her face flush and a bizarre guilt swell in her chest. She’d always wondered whether she and Ron would ever be anything more than she friends. Harry was like her brother, but Ron was different. Still, she’d not been all that bothered when he’d dated Lavender, though she didn’t much care for her. And as she’d gotten older, she’d realised just how different they were. She couldn’t see them in a serious long-term relationship – and she thought Ron felt the same way. He’d never so much as complimented her, or asked her out on an innocent date. 

‘I didn’t realise,’ she said finally. ‘But, oh, I’m not…’ she grimaced. As comfortable as she was with Remus, she didn’t quite feel like she could talk to him about this.

He seemed to understand. ‘He’ll get over it. Harry will persuade him to apologise. It’ll all be water under the bridge soon enough.’

Hermione nodded. ‘And then there’s the fact Draco would be alone on Christmas Day,’ she said.

‘Ah.’

‘No family, no friends, as far as I’m aware,’ she said sadly. ‘And it’s not like he’d be welcomed with open arms into the Burrow. I don’t want to leave him like that.’

Remus nodded. ‘I understand. Perhaps you should talk it through with him.’

‘Either that, or I can brew a polyjuice potion, and he can slip in as one of the Weasley brothers or somebody,’ she offered.

Remus laughed. ‘You can’t do that,’ he said. ‘You know it takes a good month or so to brew.’

She grinned at him. ‘Will you be spending Christmas at the Burrow?’ she asked.

‘I shall be, yes. Though only Christmas Day. I’ll be here in my rooms on Boxing Day for my transformation. I’d really rather not terrify a large group of friends over the holidays.’

Hermione nodded, though rolled her eyes at his self-deprecation. ‘Would you like company?’ she asked timidly.

He sighed and pulled a face, looking incredibly conflicted. She knew it made him uncomfortable, sharing himself in that sense with her. He disliked his wolf form, and disliked anybody seeing him like that. But she knew he enjoyed company, and that it eased his suffering – the fact he wanted her there probably made him even more uncomfortable.

‘I’d like to be,’ she said. ‘If that’s okay. I’ll be back at Hogwarts anyway, to keep Draco company, and with the castle empty there’s no danger of any gossip following me for months…’

Remus eventually nodded. ‘Okay. I suppose that would be fine. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.’ He laughed, looking embarrassed. ‘Oh, if my colleagues had any idea…’

‘I thought we’d established that we don’t care what others think?’ she said, cocking an eyebrow. 

He chuckled. ‘Quite right.’


	15. The Dance

Draco and Hermione had spent the next couple of days in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything, studying or otherwise. He was oddly easy to talk to, she found. She figured it was because he wasn’t a part of her friendship circle, and so what she told him wouldn’t so easily travel down the grapevine. It was similar, in that sense, to her relationship with Remus. 

It was Wednesday when things between the two changed for the worse. They’d been eating breakfast together when Hermione had received a letter. She knew who it was from straight away; Ron’s irritating little owl, Pigwidgeon, had plopped the letter onto her plate and buzzed about their heads like a fly. Draco had glared at it murderously while Hermione had read the letter.

 

Hermione,

I hope you’re well and having a good time at Hogwarts. Just writing to say sorry and hope you can visit on Christmas day. Everyone wants to see you and I’ve been a bit of a prick. Harry had a word and if he can deal with this then so can I. It was just a bit of a shock but it isn’t worth fighting over.

Hope we’re ok.

Ron

 

Draco had snatched the letter out of curiosity, and she’d watched his face fall – very slightly – as his eyes scanned the parchment. He’d flicked it back at her and returned to picking at his breakfast, and didn’t say a word.

It was raining when Hermione walked out of the castle, a silent and moody Malfoy in tow. They trudged around the grounds in boots and coats and scarves, shivering against the bitterly cold wind. Facing the elements was unavoidable, however; Hermione needed to collect what she could for Snape’s stock. They’d both been relieved when they’d reached the greenhouses, which offered a little more warmth – though not much.

Hermione had started eyeing up the many pots and plants, on the lookout for what she needed. Draco hauled himself onto the wooden table and watched her for a while.

‘So you’re going round the Weasleys’ little shack, then?’ he said nonchalantly. Hermione didn’t look at him; she busied herself with a rosebush. She knew he was upset, though would never admit it, and wanted to rile her up as punishment for leaving him alone on Christmas Day.

‘I… I haven’t made up my mind yet, fully.’

‘Oh, give it up, Granger. We both know you can’t wait to be back with your little buddies. And if the werewolf is going, there’s no two ways about it.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Draco…’

‘Listen, I know I’m here for convenience, somebody to listen to you prattle on about everything under the sun. When you were avoiding that twat Potter and the rest of them I was useful. Now that you’re all sunshine and rainbows again…’ he scoffed. ‘You can’t wait to be clear of me.’

Hermione turned to look at him. ‘Can you stop being such a needy, petulant little child, Draco?’ she snapped. ‘We’re friends. I care about you. I wish there were a way to spend Christmas Day with all of you, but there isn’t.’

Draco huffed. ‘Do you have to be there the whole day?’

Hermione pondered this. ‘Well, no. Not necessarily. I could go for lunch and spend the evening with you. Would that make you shut up?’

Draco shrugged and ran a hand through his platinum locks. ‘Do whatever you want. I don’t mind either way.’

Hermione shook her head and laughed. ‘You’re absolutely impossible.’

The tension somewhat dissolved after that. Draco had decided to make himself useful and help collect some of the berries Hermione needed. 

‘Probably best not to spend too long there, anyway,’ she said, counting the thorns she’d collected. ‘It’s all fine for a while, but soon everybody starts drinking… a few firewhiskeys later and everyone’s snogging and shouting and arguing. It stops being fun after that.’

Draco snorted. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Depends who you’re snogging.’

‘Oh, it’s never me, of course. Nobody’s ever had the interest.’ She had a sudden thought of Ron, and what Remus had said, and quickly pushed it out of her mind. ‘It’s Harry and Ginny, and one disastrous year, Ron and Lavender… the Weasley brothers usually have a few girls round too. Ugh.’

Draco was quiet for a second. ‘Have Potter and Ginny…?’

Hermione glanced at him. ‘What?’

He looked at her pointedly.

‘Oh! Oh. I uh… don’t know. Harry and I don’t really talk about that stuff.’

‘You talk about that stuff with Ginny though, I presume?’ he said. ‘Isn’t that what girls do? Gossip and talk about boys all day?’

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Yes, Draco, that is literally all we do,’ she huffed. ‘No, I um… well, yes. She’s told me some things. Though I’m not sure it’s my place to… you know.’

‘Oh, who am I going to tell?’ he scoffed. ‘In case you’d forgotten, everyone hates me, Granger. You’re the only one I talk to. At least make it interesting for once.’

She shook her head. ‘Oh… alright. They’ve, uh… I think they’ve had, um, sex, a few times. It’s just difficult because boys can’t go in the girls’ dorms, and Ron is in Harry’s dorm, so they’ve had to time it carefully, sand they don’t have the, uh, opportunity very often.’

Hermione felt her face flush and felt incredibly guilty about gossiping about her two close friends’ sex lives like this. She turned to look at Draco, expecting a reaction. He didn’t give her one. He was too busy picking berries monotonously, staring solemnly into the plant wordlessly. She couldn’t help but stare at him. 

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘What? Mm. Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’ he snapped.

‘I just… I don’t know.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes, working, before Draco spoke up again.

‘Did Ginny tell you anything else?’

Hermione was about to scorn her friend for being so intrusive, but a sudden curiosity had struck her and stopped her mouth before her words escaped. She wondered why Draco was so interested. He rarely asked about her friends, apart from Remus, who he only asked about because it amused him greatly to tease her. 

‘She said that the first time was a bit awkward and… uncomfortable. Neither of them really knew what to do. For the most part they just fumbled around.’

‘And after that?’ he pressed.

‘I think it was better. But as I said, they’ve not had a whole lot of opportunity.’

He hummed. ‘And what did Ginny say? Did it… go well?’

Hermione bit her tongue to hold back her temper. ‘I… she said she enjoyed it after the initial awkwardness, yes.’

‘And did he?’ 

‘What?’

‘Did he enjoy it?’ he said, rather agitatedly.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, earning a glare from Draco.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘I – Draco, why are we having this conversation? Are you getting off on this, or something?’

He stared at her, looking as though he couldn’t quite find the words he was looking for. ‘If you don’t want to tell me then don’t, Granger. I thought this was just what friends do.’

‘Gossip about their other friends?’ she asked, grinning. But her smile fell when she saw the look on his face. She couldn’t fathom why he was so affected by this. Was he still annoyed at her for leaving him on Christmas Day? Maybe getting Hermione to spill her friends’ secrets to him was a kind of test.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Draco. I assume he did. He’s a boy with a pretty girlfriend he absolutely adores. I’m almost certain he enjoyed it. Happy?’

He didn’t look at her. Some of the berries in his fist had been squashed to a pulp and juice was seeping through his fingers. 

‘They’re serious, then?’ he said finally.

‘Yes.’

Another silence descended upon them until Hermione couldn’t take it any longer.

‘Draco,’ she said quietly, ‘what is this about?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Oh please, there’s clearly something-’

‘I said nothing,’ he snapped, standing and wiping his hands on his cloak. His face was reddened and twisted into a scowl. 

‘I’m – I’m sorry if I upset you, Draco,’ Hermione said carefully, standing to join him at his side. ‘I just – I don’t know what I’ve done.’

He took a deep breath and shook his head. ‘You’ve not done anything. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.’

Hermione restrained herself from following him as he swept out of the greenhouse, disappearing into the storm. She stood there helplessly.

♦ ♦ ♦

A few hours passed, and she’d collected everything she could – unfortunately, not everything she needed. She’d have to stop off at Hogsmeade at some point during the holidays. Not today, though; it was approaching seven in the evening.

She was tired and starving but didn’t much fancy going to the Great Hall to eat. Only about a dozen students had stayed for the holidays, mostly first years enchanted with the luxuries the castle had to offer. Everyone in the same year tended to band together to eat, regardless of house. Draco and Hermione were the only seventh years, and she didn’t want to talk to him right now. She was certain he didn’t want to talk to her either.

Why had he been so moody? He’d been absolutely fine for days. She could only think that he was upset that she was leaving him for half of Christmas Day – but even that was a compromise, sacrificial from her perspective. Oddly, hearing about Ginny and Harry seemed to have upset him. But why? It simply didn’t make sense.

Before she even knew it herself, her feet were taking her towards Remus’s rooms. She had subconsciously decided the place she wanted to be was with him. Maybe he’d be able to offer some insight into her quandary – he often did. But maybe he didn’t care about the silly problems of schoolchildren. Maybe he didn’t care, full stop.

Even with these thoughts plaguing her mind she knocked on his door and waited for him to appear. She could hear loud music and voices flooding the room and seeping out through the cracks of the door. Could he have somebody round? It was a rare thing to hear Remus’s office not filled with a comfortable quietness.

The door swung open and Remus stood there, beaming at her widely. 

‘Hello, Hermione!’ he said chirpily, though rather breathlessly. She eyed him, peering round to scan the room. It was seemingly empty.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said, placing his hand on her shoulder and welcoming her into the room. She was both awestruck and confused. The place had never looked so wonderful. He’d performed a number of charms and transfiguration spells to brighten the place up considerably; the furniture and curtains had gone from the dull brown to a glittering red, similar to that of the Gryffindor common room – but far more sparkly. Tinsel entwined with holly and ivy lined the walls and strange glowing lights hung in the air like fireflies. The fireplace was roaring and crackling, huge chunks of wood burning gloriously, a sweet cosy smell filling the room; the record player was bursting out Christmas carols. When she saw his face, she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I did not have you down as someone so Christmassy,’ she said, looking about the room. He shrugged, sighing happily.

‘I loved it at school. I haven’t been able to enjoy it for many years now. So this year I decided to make the most of my good fortune.’ He winked at Hermione and strolled over to the record player.

She beamed. ‘You’ve made this place look beautiful.’

‘You should see the bedroom,’ he said. He cast a look at her, and she felt a heat rising in her face. Why on earth did that have to happen so much? She really needed to look into some kind of spell or potion to stop herself from doing that.

‘I’ll, uh, look in a minute. I have something to tell you. A few things, actually.’

He nodded and lowered the volume of the music. ‘Mm?’

‘I’d like to spend half of Christmas Day round the Burrow, and half with Draco,’ she said. ‘So, I’ll be needing to use the portkey to get back a lot earlier than we planned.’

Remus nodded. ‘I can come back with you at the same time. I don’t mind.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks, Remus. I don’t mind if you want to stay longer, to be with Sirius, I’m sure Draco won’t be too devastated…’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly. I see enough of him as it is. I’ll be at your side whenever you decide to leave.’ 

Hermione nodded and couldn’t possibly conceal her delight. ‘Thank you.’

‘Can I show you the bedroom now?’

‘Uh…’ 

But he’d already headed off with a quick pace. He was stood at the foot of the bed, leaning against the bedpost, when she entered the room. The bed had been completely transformed; the sheets were heavier and looked practically luxurious, in the same deep shimmering red. The carpet was dark green, the brick walls silvery and glistening like jewels. There was an abundance of the same hovering lights as in the office, but glowing gold and red and green. It was uncharacteristically magnificent and ostentatious – she hardly recognised the room at all.

‘It’s wonderful,’ she breathed, leaning to touch the scarlet velvety canopies. 

He laughed. ‘You’re missing it. Look up.’

Her eyes darted to the ceiling – or the absence of it. Instead, it had disappeared, revealing the dark evening sky outside. It was the same charm that had been used in the Great Hall; but there was something quaint and all the more magical about the gentle snowfall tricking from the dark blue sky into the room and softly fading into thin air.

A sigh escaped her lips and Remus chuckled. ‘Like it?’

‘Oh, Remus, it’s just… magical.’

‘That is the idea, yes,’ he laughed. ‘I know it’s a rip-off of the Great Hall, but it’s very relaxing when you’re trying to sleep. Except when there’s a thundering storm.’

‘I wish I could fall asleep to that,’ she sighed, finally looking away from the ceiling to Remus. He was smiling at her, chewing his lip.

‘You can, if you want.’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘What?’

‘On the full moon. I don’t want you to sleep on the floor again.’

‘Oh, right, yes.’ Sometimes she wished she could slap herself. What else could he have meant? 

She was lost in her thoughts when Remus’s voice pulled her out of them.

‘Wasn’t there something else you wanted to talk to me about?’ he asked, leaving the bedroom. Hermione followed. 

‘Yes, actually, um…’

He had walked back to the record player and had replaced the record with something else. He carefully placed back the stylus and some kind of slow ballad started to play. 

‘Mm?’ 

‘It’s about Draco,’ she started, struggling to articulate what she wanted to say. She wasn’t even sure what her point was. And the music was somewhat distracting.

‘He was acting, um…’

But she was cut off by Remus approaching her and taking her hands in his.

‘Remus, what are you…’

‘Do you mind?’ he said. He placed her hand on his shoulder. 

‘Mind what? What are you doing?’

‘I’m trying to get you to dance with me,’ he said flatly. She stared at him. He cleared his throat.

‘Sorry. I thought it might be fun.’ He untangled his hand from hers and went to remove the other from his shoulder, but she tightened her grip slightly.

‘No, no, sorry, I want to,’ she said quickly. Her voice was shaking. Her heart was pounding. She wondered if he knew. According to her book, werewolves supposedly had heightened senses, particularly so close to the impending full moon. But her heart was beating so loudly she was sure even a normal person would be able to hear it.

‘Alright. Only if you’re sure,’ he said softly. He took back her hand and his other fell to her waist. She swallowed down her nerves but they were overwhelming.

‘What about Draco?’ he asked, taking a step towards her. She tripped slightly as she went to step backwards and he steadied her, laughing. 

‘Sorry, I’m not very good at this,’ she said quietly, her face on fire.

‘You’re fine. You’re wonderful,’ he said.

She mumbled a thank you. She was beginning to get the hang of it – soon the both of them were moving in such a way that made sense with the music. It was the way he was gazing at her that she couldn’t quite handle.

‘You’re good at this,’ she said.

He chuckled. ‘When I was at school, there was a kind of ball for the seventh years. They stopped doing it a few years after I left. We were all expected to learn how to dance properly, so not to show up our house,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Lily and James were the centre of attention, of course. Lily looked as beautiful as ever. James didn’t take the whole thing very seriously, of course, he didn’t want to look like a prat in front of Sirius,’ he laughed. ‘And Sirius, well, Sirius took it as an opportunity to sneak alcohol into the party and ended up snogging anything that moved.’

‘And how was your evening?’ she asked.

He grinned. ‘Can you guess what night it happened to fall on?’

Her face fell.

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I’m teasing you. No, it was actually the day after the full moon. I was very tired. I still put on my dress robes and attended but I was happy sat at the side-lines watching everyone else.’

‘I assume you practised, though?’ she said.

‘Oh, yes. In secret, in my dormitory, when nobody was around to make fun of me,’ he said, smiling. ‘I seem to recall falling asleep at the ball. I think Peter carried me to bed, in the end.’

‘Didn’t you ask to dance with anyone?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘No. I wasn’t very confident. I don’t think I was the most stunningly gorgeous boy at the school. Skinny and pale, always looking ill and tired,’ he sighed. ‘Particularly next to James and Sirius.’

‘I would’ve danced with you.’

He smiled. ‘Thank you. Well, it’s a little late, but here we are.’ He bit his lip. ‘Now, in a few moments it’ll be a good moment to lean back with the music.’

‘Oh! What do I have to…’

But the music slowed and Remus had grasped her waist tightly and she fell backwards into his hold, tilting her head and torso back. His body was tightly held against hers and she felt a stirring in the pits of her stomach. Her breath hitched as he drew her back up. His face was very close to hers now, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.

‘Very good,’ he said.

She laughed nervously. ‘Well, you’re a good teacher.’

‘And you’re a good student,’ he said. She finally looked up to meet his eyes. He gazed at her for a moment, before suddenly drawing back his hands from her person, and stepping back away from her. 

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. 

‘What for? I was enjoying that,’ she enthused.

He didn’t say anything. He’d turned away from her and was heading to his desk.

‘Haven’t taken my wolfsbane,’ he mumbled. She watched him as he removed the cork from a bottle with a tap of his wand and downed the dark liquid in one long drink. He screwed up his eyes in distaste and chucked the bottle aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and breathing deeply.

‘Disgusting as ever,’ he said roughly. 

They stood, only the music filling the silence.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Just tired, I think. I’m sorry, Hermione. I shouldn’t have done that. I can sense that you were uncomfortable or… scared. It’s just that the full moon is in a couple of days and it makes me act strangely.’

She blinked. ‘I wasn’t uncomfortable. I certainly wasn’t scared. Why on earth do you think that?’

He shrugged. ‘You may have read that werewolves have particularly powerful senses,’ he said. ‘I can hear and… smell. I can just tell.’

She shook her head. ‘Well, evidently you can’t, because you’re completely wrong.’ She crossed her arms over her chest.

He laughed. ‘Admittedly, it wouldn’t be the first time.’ 

She sighed. 

‘Can you do me a favour?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘I need to go to Hogsmeade at some point,’ she said. ‘To collect some things for Snape’s stock. I know tomorrow is Christmas Eve, but I’ve nothing else to do…’

He smiled. ‘You don’t need a teacher to escort you to Hogsmeade, Hermione. You’re in seventh year. And it’s the holidays.’

‘I know that,’ she said quietly. He blinked.

‘Oh. Well, um, yes, that’s fine. Of course.’

She beamed at him. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. About… eight? Is that okay?’

He laughed. ‘I’m not exactly the early bird type, Hermione. I sleep until midday if I can.’

She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Eight it is,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

♦ ♦ ♦

That evening, she retired to her dormitory to eat alone. She’d grabbed some food from the house elves in the kitchen – they’d served her quickly, as they never much appreciated her efforts to inspire a revolution – and had curled up in bed finishing up her knitting. It had been a funny day. She’d always been called emotional and temperamental, with turbulent mood swings and a rotten temper – but recently, it had felt like everyone around her had been the emotional ones, not her. Ron and his violent jealously, Draco with his strange curiosity about Harry and Ginny, Remus and his everlasting awkwardness. She sighed, and scratched Crookshanks behind the ear.

‘You’re my rock, Crookshanks,’ she said to the cat. He let out a long purr and his eyes fell shut.


	16. Christmas Eve

‘Morning!’

Hermione had waved over the man from where she was stood, waiting near the lane that led to Hogsmeade. Remus looked absolutely exhausted. Dark circles underlined his eyes, his hair untamed and stuck out in every direction. He was sporting a huge oversized coat that practically swallowed up his lean frame and a long, striped scarf. He scowled at her when she giggled at his appearance.

‘I told you I’m not a morning person,’ he yawned, running his hands through his hair, perhaps in attempt to calm it down. It only made it worse. Hermione wondered what they must look like to other people, with her own wild mane of curls. They probably looked a little ridiculous.

‘I know. That’s why I got you this,’ she rummaged about in her satchel and revealed a small invigoration potion. ‘I brewed it earlier. I’m a morning person.’

He smirked and took the potion, chugging it, shuddering as the liquid entered his system. Hermione had brewed only a mild version but Snape’s recipe was powerful. 

‘Thank you.’

‘Shall we?’ 

‘After you.’

They set off on the path side by side. It was a far more pleasant day today than it had been; the sky was lightly clouded, the snowfall gentle, the wind still and silent. The cold was strangely bearable. Hermione looked at the man next to her. The potion had already started to take effect – there was a noticeable skip in his step and he looked brighter, more alive. He shot her a look and grinned.

‘So, where are we going?’ he asked.

‘I thought we’d try Dogweed and Deathcap first,’ Hermione said. ‘That should have most things. Then J. Pippin’s Potions, maybe Ceridwen’s Cauldrons or The Magic Neep if we’re desperate.’

‘Is he paying you?’ he asked.

‘Uh, no. But then I’ve used a lot of his stock for brewing my own potions, things for me and Draco…’ she shrugged. ‘I’ve been a bit frivolous.’

He hummed. ‘Why did you agree to this?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Why did you agree to become substitute potion master for the holidays?’

‘I needed some draughts to regulate Draco’s sleeping patterns. He’s also needed some pepperup…’

He shook his head. ‘Which you could have gotten from Madam Pomfrey. I would have gladly given my consent to let you bypass all the tests and examinations, you know that.’

She shrugged. ‘I thought it might come in useful. I get bored quite quickly, you know.’ 

‘And this has nothing to do with Snape?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’

He sighed. ‘You know. His… business away this holiday.’

She tried her best to look innocent. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

But she did. The thought had crossed her mind – Snape’s office and the dungeons were where he spent almost all his time at Hogwarts, as far as she knew. If he had any secrets, they must be there. She’d not been able to bring herself to snoop around just yet – she feared that Snape would somehow know – but she’d been waiting for a good excuse. She was bothered that Remus had managed to detect her motives. 

‘What exactly is he doing?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘I really…’

‘Really can’t tell me, I know,’ she said. They watched as a swarm of starlings appeared and swirled about the skies, and disappeared once again. ‘But I’d just like an idea.’

He stared ahead thoughtfully. ‘In truth, I’m not sure myself. I know he’s with the death eaters,’ he said quietly. ‘In their headquarters. I think he’s ranked quite high. But I’ve no idea what he’s actually doing. I know he’s giving them information about us, but filtering out the important things – just telling them the things that sound important, but aren’t, really. In turn he finds out things about them.’

‘But…’ she furrowed her eyebrows. ‘You-Know-Who isn’t back, is he? What are the death eaters even doing?’

‘You said it – he isn’t back. They’re trying to resolve that issue.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know,’ Remus said quietly. ‘And that’s the truth. That’s what Severus is attempting to find out. And he’ll intervene when necessary.’

Hermione nodded. She wondered whether Remus had his doubts about Snape. He seemed almost defensive when she implied her own – was that because they reflected his own concerns? Nevertheless, she didn’t wish to push the subject any more than she already had. The last thing she wanted was for him to be mad with her.

They were about halfway along the path to Hogsmeade when she built up the courage to ask him something else.

‘What’s Dumbledore doing?’ she asked.

He chuckled. ‘I’ve told you before. He’s meeting with other members of the Order, making plans.’

‘And that takes two weeks?’

He shot her a look. ‘You’d make a very good interrogator, Hermione.’ 

‘I just think we have a right to know,’ she muttered. ‘Harry is so closely involved, and so we are…’

He looked as though he were about to retort, but his mouth opened and closed and he shook his head in defeat. ‘You already know that we’ve been building an army. You know that’s what I was doing for all those years with those werewolf packs. That’s what he’s doing.’

She hummed. This wasn’t news to her.

‘He’s also preparing the castle for emergency evacuation,’ Remus said quietly.

She stared at him.

‘Emergency – evacuation? Remus?’

‘That’s all you’re getting out of me,’ he said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. ‘My lips are sealed.’

She stopped on the path. The snowfall seemed to be getting heavier, and the wind was beginning to pick up. She shivered and stuffed her hands into her pockets, glaring at the ground. 

‘Hermione, come on.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she mumbled.

She heard him sigh. ‘Honestly, don’t be a child.’ 

When he walked backwards to join her side she immediately reached out to grab his scarf, tugging it off his neck. He blinked at her.

‘Give that back.’

‘Tell me about the evacuation,’ she said.

‘No!’

‘Then you’re not having your scarf back,’ she muttered. She pulled it around her own neck and tucked it into her coat. ‘You can’t tell me there’s going to be an emergency evacuation and leave it at that, Remus.’

‘That’s because it’s top secret!’ he snapped. ‘And anyway, there likely won’t be. It’s just a precaution.’

‘Hmm.’ She tightened the scarf about her neck and decided to treat him with silence. After a few minutes of neither of them talking, just walking along the snowy, winding pathway, she shot him an icy look. She was surprised to see him chuckling.

‘Don’t laugh. This is a serious negotiation. With your scarfs wellbeing at stake.’

He shrugged. ‘I can’t take you seriously when you look so adorable.’

She huffed and turned away from him, trying not to let him see her lips twitching into a smile.

‘A precaution for what?’

‘Oh, Hermione, you’re the brightest witch of your age. You work it out.’

‘An attack? On the castle?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘So what’s Dumbledore doing?’

‘Oh, Hermione. It’s very boring. He’s working out logistics; means of emergency transportation, safe houses, defence mechanisms.’

She hummed. 

‘Can I have my scarf back now?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Give it back, I’m bloody freezing.’

She laughed and he grumbled, rubbing his bare neck. Hogsmeade was in sight now, and looked glorious even from afar. A huge Christmas tree had since been erected in the middle of the village, bejewelled and adorned with hundreds of glistening decorations. The town was unsurprisingly bustling with people; it was always busy, but on Christmas Eve, it was the time for last minute shopping. Perhaps she should have chosen a better time.

Hermione had stopped to admire the view when her line of vision was obscured by Remus stepping to stand directly in front of her. Before she could react his hands had slipped to her front, pulling the scarf from her coat and untying the knot she’d made. He took it from her neck and wrapped it back around his own. She was too flustered by his touch to respond; she watched him smirk and raise his eyebrows, and head off towards the village.

♦ ♦ ♦

Initially, Remus had followed Hermione about the shops as she scoured the shelves for what she needed. After a while, however, he wondered off by himself, muttering something about needing to buy a few things.

She’d managed to find everything she needed, save for some rarer items, and exited the store. She eyed up Tomes and Scrolls but managed to resist – she was low on money as it was, and she needed to find Remus.

She eventually found him a little way out from the village, sat on a bench. He was staring at the Shrieking Shack which stood a good distance away, but was in clear sight. She joined his side and sat down next to him, noticing he had a couple of bags of shopping at his feet.

‘How did you expect me to find you all the way out here?’ she asked.

He snorted, though didn’t take his eyes off the shack. ‘You found me, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, very clever.’

He smiled and leaned back, letting out a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I think I lost track of time.’

‘It’s okay.’ Hermione looked over at the Shrieking Shack, and back at Remus. ‘What’s wrong?’

He shifted in his seat, grimacing. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I look at that place and it has no effect on me. All the times I’ve visited Sirius this year, it’s been fine. But other times…’ he sighed. ‘Sometimes I take one look at the bloody thing and all the memories flood back. Maybe it’s because the full moon is so close.’

She nodded. ‘I can’t imagine what it was like.’

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his scalp. ‘Slow. Painful. It’s horrible being out of control.’

His gloved hand was resting on his knee and she tentatively placed her own on his. His chest rose suddenly as he took a sharp intake of breath, but did not pull away.

‘Not to mention humiliating. I may be more in control but it’s still deeply painful for me, people knowing who I am, seeing me like that.’

She shook her head. ‘If I’m honest, Remus, particularly under the wolfsbane, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You’re… beautiful, if anything.’

He broke into laughter. ‘You’ve a ridiculous way of seeing things.’

‘And you’re so self-pitying it’s exhausting.’

He finally broke his gaze to look at her, grinning. ‘You’re right. My brooding must be getting maudlin. Are you ready?’

She nodded and they gathered to their feet, heading back to the village. After spending some time in The Three Broomsticks and admiring the Christmas decorations they made their way back to the castle.

♦ ♦ ♦

‘…And he called me adorable, and we sort of held hands, and the way he took the scarf off me was… oh, Draco, he is just…’ Hermione waved her hands meaninglessly. He cocked an eyebrow at her, taking a sip of tea. They were sat in the library, attempting to study, but Hermione was babbling incoherently about Remus and they’d gotten very little done. 

‘I wish you’d just skip all of this stuff and fuck him already,’ he muttered, rolling his eyes. ‘That’d be much more interesting.’

‘Well, forgive me for wanting more than just… that, Draco,’ she huffed. He smirked and shrugged.

‘Do you… like anyone?’ she asked.

He snorted. ‘Are we really having this conversation? Shouldn’t this be in the context of a sleepover, the two of us in our pyjamas and braiding each other’s hair?’

‘We could do that if you want,’ she said.

He shook his head, turning the page of the textbook on the table.

‘Do you?’

He sighed, and then turned his gaze to her. His grey eyes met hers. 

‘I do, Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘You.’

She blinked at him, her mouth falling open in shock. 

‘What – are you-’

But in a moment he’d already began to snigger, his whole body quivering with laughter.

‘Fuck, Granger, I know you’re full of yourself, but did you really believe…?’

‘Oh!’ she leant over and smacked his arm, her temper rising. ‘You are honestly so unbearable.’

‘Like I’d fancy you. Jesus.’

She scowled at the blond, crossing her arms. ‘Who do you fancy, then? Anyone?’

‘No.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

He sighed exasperatedly. ‘Granger, who is there? Even you’ve bypassed all the students our age and gone for a teacher, for God’s sake. You of all people should understand there’s not a lot of options in this place.’

‘There’s a lot of nice people here,’ she insisted.

‘Name one that doesn’t want me dead,’ he said.

She fumbled for a name, but couldn’t quite find one. ‘I won’t dignify that with a response,’ she said finally. He grinned at her and took a swig of his tea, slurping loudly as he did so, because he knew it irritated her. She elected to ignore it, though it was difficult not to slap the teacup out of his hand.

‘Do you like girls?’ she asked suddenly.

He stared at her.

‘Are you asking if I’m gay?’ 

‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ she said quickly. ‘Obviously. I’m just wondering.’

‘Do I really strike you as someone that could be gay?’ he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Hermione considered him for a moment. ‘Well, now that you mention it, sort of, yes.’

‘Is this because I don’t fancy you, Granger? A man isn’t attracted to you so he must be gay? God, you’re conceited.’

Hermione didn’t have the energy to fight him on this. She decided to change the subject instead.

‘I’m going to be leaving at about ten with Remus tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back at about four. Would that be okay? We can meet in the morning, if you like.’

He shrugged, but Hermione could tell he was secretly pleased.

‘And I got you this,’ she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a carefully wrapped parcel. He groaned.

‘I hate gifts,’ he muttered.

‘Tough. Make sure you open it tomorrow.’

‘Fine. But I’ll probably hate it.’

‘Fine.’


	17. Christmas Day

‘Are you ready?’

Hermione glanced around the room one last time. Draco sat on an armchair, the one she often used herself, cross-armed and cross-legged. In general, crossed. He had a look on his face that she hadn’t seen for quite a while, not since his father sent him all his possessions from home. He looked utterly, utterly miserable, and angry. Very angry.

It wasn’t until a few moments before that he’d sunk into this mood. The morning had actually been incredibly pleasant. Hermione had awoken in her dormitory to a rather humbling amount of gifts from all her friends. Granted, most of them were books, scrolls, manuals, those sorts of things – but that wasn’t a surprise. In fact, they were welcomed – though she didn’t have a very large bookshelf in her dorm, so she was beginning to build a fortress of books surrounding her bed.

She’d very much enjoyed exchanging gifts with Remus and Draco over breakfast in his office. Remus had set out an array of tea and biscuits, pastries and toast, and forced Draco into wearing the singing party hat that fell out of the Christmas crackers. Draco had opened Hermione’s gift that morning in his dormitory and been irritable about it since – she thought it’d be amusing to buy them matching friendship necklaces, though Draco refused to wear his. To their mutual surprise and amusement, Remus and Hermione had managed to give each other the exact same thing; both had made each other a jumper, though Remus’s attempt was admittedly a lot worse. It was far too big and swamped her entirely, and there were a few strange holes and patches that looked as though he’d tried to fix with spells. They’d agreed to wear them that day ironically, though secretly, Hermione wore hers with genuine adoration.

She felt horrible leaving Draco like this. But she was so excited to see her friends again, and the Weasley family – and besides, it would only be for a few hours.

‘I’m ready,’ she said to Remus, nodding and bracing herself. She’d not used a portkey in years. She held one half of it in her hand, Remus holding the other. Remus muttered a countdown under his breath, and with a final look at her surly friend, she had left the room.

It felt like she was being dragged by the navel up into the air at horrifying speed, twisting and turning wildly about. She could vaguely make out the shapes and colours that made up Remus, but she wasn’t totally sure he was even there. It wasn’t until a few moments later that his presence was obvious; he’d shouted at her to let go, and very reluctantly, she’d loosened her grip on the glove and fell headfirst from wherever she was.

She landed on her stomach surprisingly unscathed, though felt like she’d just staggered off a particularly nasty rollercoaster. She raised a tentative hand to her hair, which had become curlier and wilder than ever. She grumbled as she stood, and watched as Remus gracefully landed on his feet. He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes, gazing out at the towering building that stood only a short distance away.

They weren’t even particularly close to the Burrow when they first heard voices and commotion; overhead, Harry, Ron, Ginny, the Weasley twins and another redheaded brother – Hermione couldn’t quite make out who – were soaring on broomsticks engaged in an intense game of garden Quidditch, all jeering and shouting and taunting. They didn’t appear to notice Hermione and Remus approach as they did not come down from their broomsticks – either that, or they were more interested in the game.

A long, narrow tent had been set outside the Burrow, presumably to accommodate a table with enough seats for everybody. The first person that noticed the two was Molly, who had previously been screaming her lungs out at the Quidditch players. 

‘WILL YOU ALL COME DOWN AND HELP – oh! Hermione! Remus! How wonderful to see you!’

The round, bubbly woman welcomed Hermione into her lovely warm arms with a big hug, freeing her only to grab Remus and pull him into a rather stifling hug too. A few moments later Arthur, who had been talking to Xenophilius, Luna’s father, arrived at his wife’s side, smiling cheerfully.

‘Merry Christmas, all!’ he chimed, beaming at Hermione and shaking Remus’s hand. ‘You’ll have to excuse the kids, they’re a bit… overexcited.’

Hermione pondered on the use of the word ‘kid’ as she watched the six fly about on their brooms, and decided that it was aptly used. 

Her gaze swept the Burrow; Remus had noticed Sirius casting warmth spells around the tent and had practically ran over to greet him. Bill and a very attractive blonde woman – Fleur, Hermione believed her name was – were decorating the place, which meant the sixth flyer was Charlie. Luna and Hagrid were walking the grounds a little distance away – Hermione didn’t want to know what they were talking about – and Molly and Arthur had started to bicker about something to do with lunch. 

‘Oi! Hermione’s here!’ 

At once, the six on the brooms plummeted from the skies and landed expertly on the ground, uncomfortably close to where Hermione stood. She eyed the brooms nervously for a second before joining her friends in a great group hug.

‘Merry Christmas!’ they all said, talking all over each other. Hermione smiled at Ron who returned it politely – she was glad there was no animosity left between the two of them.

‘Hiya,’ Fred or George said – Hermione was pretty sure it was Fred.

‘You alright?’ said the other.

‘Glad to hear our famous Skiving Snackbox came in handy, Hermione.’

‘Though we’re not aware of any use of the Wonderwitch range as of yet.’

‘It’s top of the range, we’ll have you know.’

‘Very expensive, too.’

‘Premium!’

‘Or is that still not good enough for your highness?’ 

The two bowed low in impressive unison, but Hermione was used to this. She rolled her eyes.

‘Yes, well, when I’m in need of everlasting eyelashes or a whole array of love potions, I’m all set,’ she drawled.

‘Oh, your words wound us,’ Fred moaned, grabbing his heart with one hand and clutching his brother’s shoulder for support.

‘Anyway, we hear you’ve no need for our love potions, Hermione.’

‘Our beguiling bubbles…’

‘Our cupid crystals…’

‘Our crush blush…’

‘Our flirting fancies!’

‘You’ve worked your own charms, potion-free, isn’t that right?’

‘On a certain someone.’

Hermione blinked at the two smirking redheads. They were referring to Draco, though like everyone else, had the wrong end of the stick. Or perhaps they didn’t, and simply wanted their fun.

Ginny sighed loudly and slapped George on the arm. ‘Will you two stop trying to rile things up? It’s Christmas.’

‘That’s exactly why we’re trying to rile things up, my dear sister.’

‘It’s not Christmas without a blazing row, after all.’

‘Besides, Hermione here…’

‘She’s a dirty…’

‘Filthy…’

‘Traitor,’ they both chanted together. With the twins’ tendency to speak with booming voices, Molly had noticed the nature of the conversation and had stalked across the grounds to the group, red in the face.

‘Will you two act your age, for once?’ she snapped. 

‘Mother…’

‘We paid for a great deal of this beautiful gathering, as you know.’

‘With our booming success.’

‘The fruits of our labour.’

‘Our hard work.’

‘Our blood, sweat and tears.’

‘If we want to torture our guests, we’ve earned that right.’

Molly groaned and attempted to grab the boys by their sleeves to tug them away, but they disapparated in an instant. Molly let out an agonised cry of frustration and walked away, grumbling about the twins under her breath.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Charlie had stood and watched the conversation unfold, half amused, half uncomfortable. Ron looked as though he were struggling to treat the situation with Draco and Hermione with the same light-heartedness as the twins, and decided to ignore it altogether. Charlie smiled at Hermione, wishing her a merry Christmas, before wondering off to join his parents.

‘Alright getting here?’ Ron asked, seemingly a little uncomfortable.

Hermione nodded. ‘Oh, and uh, thank you, everyone, for the wonderful gifts.’

‘You too.’ 

‘So… how have everyone’s holidays been so far?’ she asked.

Harry shrugged and Ron grunted. Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

The four looked around, a certain tension filling the air. Hermione was thankful when Ginny broke the silence with more than half-baked small talk.

‘What on earth is that you’re wearing, Hermione?’ she asked. 

‘Oh, it was a gift,’ Hermione said, looking down at the purple material drowning her torso.

‘Oh. It’s very, uh…’ Ginny stared at it. ‘Interesting.’

‘Who was it from?’ Ron asked.

‘Remus. Uh, Professor Lupin.’ Hermione had tried to say his name with the most neutrality and indifference humanly possible, though she’d stuttered a bit, and couldn’t look any of her friends in the eye. Particularly Ginny, who was gazing at her curiously.

‘Lupin made you that?’ Harry asked. ‘Does he hate you?’

‘Did he make it under a full moon?’ Ron asked, chuckling. ‘Holding the knitting needles in giant wolf paws…’

‘Looks like it,’ Harry muttered, and the two began to giggle like children.

‘Oh, be quiet. And don’t be so rude. I happen to like it,’ Hermione said righteously, crossing her arms. ‘It’s very warm.’

They were interrupted when Molly yelled to get their attention, and they were encouraged to their seats at the long table. There were sixteen altogether, eight on each side. Hermione was sat between Harry and Ginny – perhaps Molly’s way of keeping them from fondling each other for five minutes – and, to her delight, she was opposite Remus.

The interior of the Burrow was far too small to accommodate the sixteen, particularly Hagrid, who had difficulty entering the house without knocking five things over at once. The compromise – the tent – was more of a gazebo, a bright orange material, with holly and ivy hanging from its fringes. Fleur had apparently cast a spell so that mistletoe grew from the ceiling and descended on various couples. At first Hermione thought she’d done it seriously, but when a sprig found its way between Sirius and Hagrid, it appeared to be sprouting at random.

The food was delightful; a massive turkey, a whole mass of vegetables and roast potatoes, a huge pot of gravy, a towering plate of Yorkshire puddings and about a dozen bottles of different drinks. It was a meal that could rival the famed dinners at Hogwarts, which didn’t take long at all for everyone to finish and move onto seconds, and thirds, and fourths, in Ron’s case.

Hermione wasn’t involved in any specific conversation, but kept receiving little titbits of each as her concentration faded in and out of various discussions.

‘You know, zis English food is not bad,’ Fleur was saying to Molly, who appeared to be forcing a smile onto her face. ‘Though, you simply must try French cuisine, Molly, it is divine. Per’aps I can cook for your family, one day, hmm?’

‘You hear that, mum? Fleur could cook for us. Would give you a day off, eh?’ Bill said.

‘Oh, I certainly look forward to that, my dear,’ Molly said through gritted teeth, eyeing Arthur – who was smiling fondly at Fleur – and slapping his arm.

On another part of the table, Hagrid was lecturing Luna and Xenophilius about magical creatures.

‘An’ the thing abou’ dragons is that they’re so misunderstood, ain’t that righ’, Charlie?’ Hagrid was saying.

‘Well, uh, not really, Hagrid. They’re majestic things, but they are incredibly vicious by nature,’ Charlie said, subconsciously touching the silvery burn on his arm.

‘Bu’ wha’ d’you expect when yer chain ‘em and cage ‘em and poke ‘em with sticks? Any self-respectin’ animal wouldn’t just sit there and take it.’ 

‘That’s not really what we do, Hagrid…’

‘I imagine they’re very peaceful creatures, deep down,’ Luna said dreamily. 

‘Well… not really,’ Charlie mumbled.

‘Anything that old, wise, and powerful, must have a great deal of peace in its heart,’ Xenophilius agreed.

‘No, yeah, you’re all right,’ Charlie said, sighing.

Meanwhile, Sirius was listening intently to Fred and George’s business plans.

‘We’re working on something new…’

‘Haven’t quite worked out the logistics yet, have we Fred?’

‘Not yet, George. But we’re thinking...’

‘We have a witch’s range, and now a wizard’s range, and we even have a muggle’s range and a kid’s range…’

‘So we need to expand our audience. So that means…’

‘Adult range,’ George said.

‘What would that entail, exactly?’ Sirius asked, leaning in.

Fred smirked. ‘Things that’re a little naughtier than the rest of our stock. We’d probably have to put some kind of age line around the shelves, or the Ministry’ll get pissed off with us again…’

‘Prissy gits.’

‘We’re thinking see-through goggles…’ 

‘Self-explanatory.’

‘An updated version of the daydream charms, with fewer limitations and more vivid imagery…’

‘Money for old rope,’ George said.

Ginny had overheard the conversation and, to express her distaste, made a loud vomiting noise. ‘Oh, you two are so disgusting.’

‘Don’t knock it, sis.’

‘See-through goggles? That’s absolutely repulsive. You two should be ashamed,’ she snapped.

‘Repulsive? The human body is a beautiful thing,’ George said, earning a terrifying glare from his sister.

Fred nudged his brother and glanced at Fleur, who was still irritating Molly Weasley. ‘Some more beautiful than others.’

Ginny sighed. ‘It’s misogynistic. Like men need any more encouragement to objectify women – give them special glasses so you can see them in their knickers!’

George shook his head. ‘That’s very sexist of you, Ginny. I’m sure there’d be a huge female audience, too.’

‘There certainly would not.’

‘Hermione,’ Fred said, turning to her with a very serious expression. ‘If you could have the opportunity to look at somebody naked, would you or would you not take it?’

‘No.’

‘Oh come on, it could be anyone at all, the man of your wildest dreams…’ 

‘And who would that be?’ she asked.

Fred shrugged. ‘You tell us.’

‘Yeah, tell us, Hermione,’ George chimed.

Harry and Ron had leaned into the conversation now. Hermione shook her head, desperately ignoring the man directly in front of her. 

‘I agree with Ginny. It’s a horrible idea.’

Ginny had let out a triumphant ‘ha!’ and the twins had booed the both of them, and retreated back into a discussion about the Marauders era, Remus reluctantly assisting Sirius with the storytelling. Hermione allowed herself to listen to the two men talk about some brilliant prank they pulled on one April Fool’s Day, all the while watching Remus, when Ginny had stood from the table and poked Hermione on the shoulder, motioning for her to follow.

The two strayed from the tent and walked a little distance away until they were entering the nearby orchard. It wasn’t snowing in Devon like it was at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t nearly as cold, which Hermione greatly welcomed. The orchard, huge and isolated, an ideal place for wizards and witches to practise Quidditch as the Weasleys so often did – it was utterly silent, like nobody else was around for miles.

Perhaps this was the reason Ginny brought her here, as she clearly had something on her mind.

‘So what’s the deal?’ she asked.

Hermione looked at her. ‘The deal?’

‘The deal.’

‘What do you mean?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘You know, since the very beginning of this term, I could have sworn you have a thing for Professor Lupin.’

Hermione stared at her.

‘So I was really surprised when the whole thing with Malfoy happened…’ she continued. ‘But then, you two really are only just friends, aren’t you?’

‘Yes!’ Hermione said. ‘Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell people. Draco is the absolute last person I’d go out with.’

‘But you and Professor Lupin…?’

Hermione swallowed and looked at her feet. ‘We’re just friends too.’

‘Oh yeah? Because the way you were just looking at him now didn’t seem all that friendly to me,’ Ginny said matter-of-factly.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, desperate to respond, to defend herself, to make excuses – but she was plagued with other thoughts. Why should she lie? Maybe she wouldn’t tell Harry and Ron. Or if she did, did that matter? After all, it was just a silly schoolgirl infatuation. She was self-aware enough to know that. They’d probably all laugh about it, tease her a little, and it’d all go back to normal. It wasn’t like this thing with Remus was serious – so why was she acting like it was?

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at her friend. ‘Well, yes, we’re quite close. And I do… um… find him quite attractive.’

Ginny’s face stretched into a wide grin, and Hermione sighed.

‘I knew it! Ever since he stayed with you in the hospital wing that time, after Draco shot that spell… Oh Merlin, I even said to Harry… he owes me two galleons.’

‘No, Ginny, don’t tell him,’ Hermione said. ‘Not yet, anyway. I don’t want it to turn into gossip. It’ll ruin my and Remus’s relationship if he finds out, God knows we’ve already had a few bumps along the way.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Ginny said, holding her hands up defensively. Then she furrowed her eyebrows at the brunette. ‘What d’you mean, bumps along the way?’

Hermione breathed in and out heavily before telling Ginny everything as they explored the orchard. She told her about the very beginning, from sitting with him on the Express, to the rather physical DADA lessons and the afternoon chats in his office, why she’d been so angry at Ernie Macmillan that time, skiving detention to be with Remus during his transformation, the awkward incident in the baths and their dance in his office just the few days before. Ginny listened in silence, kicking stones and occasionally reaching up to swing on a low hanging branch. 

When she was finished, Hermione felt conflicted. It was heavenly to get all of it off her chest – it was one thing to talk to Draco (and, technically, she’d had her fair share of conversations with Crookshanks about it too, though he was more of a listener) but it was another to talk to one of her closest friends. A female friend, at that. All Draco was interested about most of the time was whether she was anywhere closer to having sex with her professor yet.

However, as good as it felt to relieve that weight from her shoulders, she felt nervous, and silly. Nervous because she’d have no idea how Ginny would react – Draco, stripped of everything in his life and separated from his poisonous father, had revealed to be a surprisingly open minded person. Silly because she felt plain silly talking about all of this. 

She’d worn her bracelet that day. She’d decided to only wear it for special occasions or when she was truly confused about her emotions – though, often, it didn’t help with clarifying that. It just reflected a rainbow of colours back at her.

Ginny hummed thoughtfully, and glanced at the bracelet around Hermione’s wrist, flashing beautifully. ‘What’s that?’

Hermione blinked at it. ‘Mood bracelet. Uh, Remus got it for me. Birthday,’ she mumbled.

Ginny grabbed her wrist to get a good look at it. ‘Ooh!’ she exclaimed, jabbing the chain with her finger. ‘Jewellery! He’s a keeper, ‘Mione,’ she said, grinning.

‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ Hermione said, pulling back her wrist. ‘What about all the other stuff? You know, while I was talking for last twenty minutes?’

‘I wasn’t listening,’ Ginny said, shrugging. Hermione glared at her.

She laughed. ‘I’m kidding! No, I just… I’m not completely sure what to say. I mean, I’m not surprised… but I sort of am.’

Hermione gave her a look, and Ginny groaned.

‘Oh, it’s just… hard to explain. I mean, it’s so typical of you to fancy a teacher… and he’s not a bad looking guy, after all. But I don’t know. It just seems kind of intense. You skipped the fun, flirting bit and went straight to the difficult bits. I mean, Harry and I went through something similar, but…’

‘But that’s different,’ Hermione said. Ginny shrugged and nodded.

‘And it’s kind of… is it even allowed?’

‘What, us?’ Hermione said. She laughed. ‘No, not until I graduate. But it’s not going to happen.’

Ginny chewed her lip. ‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t dismiss it entirely.’

Hermione glanced at her, and Ginny pulled a face. 

‘It sounds like things are a bit intimate,’ she admitted. ‘And that’s not a bad thing… well, it is in some people’s eyes. And I want to be the girlfriend who’s all pushing you forward and playing matchmaker but… I don’t know. I don’t really know how I feel about it.’

‘That makes two of us,’ Hermione muttered. The two had walked in a circle and found themselves nearest to the Burrow again, and decided to return to the revelry.

When they arrived, the dirty dishes had disappeared and the twins were table jousting, Hagrid apparently refereeing. However, everybody else had seemingly disappeared into the Burrow. 

‘Bi’ cold, apparen’ly,’ Hagrid said as they approached, motioning to the house. ‘Gone in for a drink.’

Ginny grimaced at the word ‘drink’. When Hermione looked at her questioningly, Ginny explained, ‘when everyone starts drinking at 2 o’clock, everyone’s unbearable by the evening.’

Before Hermione could open her mouth to respond, Ginny hastily added, ‘yes, I know what you’re going to say, I know I had a bit last year, but all I did was snog Harry a bit. I’m not the one getting into fights…’

They entered the room and found their way into the lounge. Extra chairs had filled the already cramped room, and Hermione immediately felt a little claustrophobic. Still, the atmosphere was still pleasant and appropriately jolly; they were passing around an almost terrifyingly large bottle of firewhiskey and various wines, pulling explosive crackers, helping themselves to even more helpings of chocolates and biscuits. Sirius had poured himself a dangerously full glass of whiskey and, apparently, had already started on the party tricks – turning into Padfoot and performing tricks that would be impressive for a normal dog, but not so much for a person.

Hermione watched Remus as he squeezed himself between Arthur and Bill and refused a glass of anything.

‘Better not,’ he said quietly. ‘Not good with wolfsbane.’

Everything was incredibly pleasant for a few hours. Hermione was agonisingly aware that she had promised Draco she’d be back soon, though truly didn’t want to leave. The twins had joined now, and Hagrid had managed to squeeze himself in too – with everyone’s support and co-operation. Ginny and Harry had mysteriously disappeared, and Bill and Fleur were taking a walk. It had all been utterly wonderful, and, as guilty as she felt, she didn’t want to leave this to return to a surly, bitter, resentful Draco to spend the rest of her last Christmas at Hogwarts.

Soon, though, things gradually worsened. It started when Molly made a comment about Fleur.

‘I’m not saying I don’t like her,’ she said. ‘I just think that Bill could do better, that’s all.’

‘Oh, I don’t know…’ Arthur mumbled.

‘Now don’t start,’ Molly snapped.

‘What?’

‘I know every single man in this room is drooling over her, but looks aren’t everything,’ Molly said.

‘I think you’re being a bit harsh, though, love. She seems nice enough.’

‘Jealous, Mol?’ Sirius said, yawning and stretching out his long limbs.

Remus shot him a warning look, but it was too late.

‘Jealous? What have I got to be jealous about?’ Molly said.

‘Well, she’s an absolute stunner, let’s face it,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘I mean, come on. It’s not her fault. Not anyone else’s fault, either. It’s in her blood, isn’t it?’

‘What, it’s in her blood to be a conceited, arrogant cow?’ Molly barked.

Sirius sniggered, earning a sharp slap on the arm from Remus.

Arthur sighed. ‘Look, if Bill is happy, that’s all that matters.’

‘I just don’t like having that sort of woman in my home!’ Molly continued. ‘And I also don’t like watching every single man, including my sons, dribble every time she swishes her hair or bats her eyelashes!’

‘Mum!’ Ron groaned. ‘Stop it.’

Charlie interrupted. ‘Actually, I’d just like to point out that I haven’t done anything of the sort.’

‘That’s because you’re dragonsexual,’ Fred said.

‘Charlie’s got a nice scaly girlfriend back in Romania, haven’t you?’ George added.

‘Really hot.’

‘She’s certainly a fiery one.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Charlie said, rolling his eyes. He got up and left the room. Hermione heard the front door open and close.

‘At least he’s brought somebody home. Charlie’s never shown interest in anybody,’ Arthur said.

‘That’s because he’s-’

‘Boys!’ Molly snapped. ‘Charlie is not dragonsexual!’

‘That’s prejudice, mum,’ Fred said. 

‘He’ll never come out if you act like that, you filthy bigot,’ George added.

Molly groaned, topping up her glass of wine. ‘Better nobody than that awful girl Ron invited round last year.’

‘Mum!’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Arthur said, nodding.

‘What was her name? L… Laverna?’

‘It’s Lavender,’ Ron snapped. ‘And we’re still friends. She’s nice.’

‘She was bloody awful!’ Molly said. ‘Ditsy and loud and irritating as anything.’

‘Clingy, too,’ Arthur added.

‘Why don’t you move onto those two?’ Ron said, pointing at the sniggering twins. ‘Or Percy, since he’s not here, so you can talk shit about him all you like. Or Ginny. She’s not as perfect as you think she is.’

‘Ron, watch your mouth,’ Arthur warned. 

‘What’s Harry like, Sirius?’ Molly asked. ‘Did he ever bring any walking disasters home before Ginny?’

Sirius barked a laugh. ‘Oh, no. He’s a well behaved lad, it’s all been a bit disappointing.’

After about half an hour of Sirius launching into stories of his own past girlfriends, Hagrid, Xenophilius and Luna bid their farewells, as Hagrid had kindly been offered a bed for the night at the Lovegood residence. The conversation had shifted, though was still as tense as before.

‘You should’ve seen Moony here as a teenage boy,’ Sirius laughed. ‘Well, I say teenage boy. More like a menopausal woman.’

‘Sirius.’

‘No, Moony, lighten up, listen. Oh, he was all hormones, but not in the normal way. He was all emotions and moodswings and melodrama. I can only think of one time he went out with a girl and when she ended it with him he was in absolute pieces, oh, Merlin. D’you remember that?’

Remus blinked. ‘No.’

‘Yeah, you do. You were so broken up.’

‘Well, my moods may or may not have something to do with the fact that I am, believe it or not, a werewolf,’ Remus said calmly. 

‘Excuses, excuses,’ Sirius said. ‘You always were the mother hen of the group. Didn’t like fun, that’s always been your problem.’

‘Oh, and I suppose your idea of fun is sending people off into a room with a rabid werewolf?’ Remus said.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. ‘If you’re referring to that one time with fucking Snivellus-’

‘Severus,’ Remus corrected. ‘And, yes, that one time you almost sent a man to his death, Sirius,’ Remus said, his voice rising along with his temper. ‘Or worse.’

‘Worse?’ Sirius snorted. ‘Contracting lycanthropy?’

‘I really wouldn’t go down this path again, Sirius,’ Remus said coldly.

Fred and George had straightened in their seats, watching the exchange excitedly, as though willing them on to battle. Hermione felt about the opposite – she just wanted to leave. A surly Draco was everything she wanted right now.

‘Oh, Moony, come on. You and I know lycanthropy isn’t all bad.’

‘Oh, you know, do you?’

‘I know it’s better nowadays, isn’t it? Especially as of recent,’ he grinned.

‘Sirius,’ Remus warned.

‘You can’t deny the plus sides.’

‘Plus sides?’ Arthur asked.

‘There are none,’ Remus said curtly.

‘Not from what I’ve heard,’ Sirius said slyly.

Remus stood wordlessly, sighing heavily and smiling at Molly and Arthur. ‘Thank you so much for having us.’

‘Are you off?’ Molly asked.

Remus nodded, glaring at Sirius. ‘I’m afraid Hermione and I have other plans.’

Sirius snorted. ‘Yeah, I bet you do, mate.’

Remus appeared to be at the end of his tether. Hermione watched as he stuffed his hand into his pocket, where she knew his wand was kept. 

‘What are you talking about?’ Remus spat.

‘You know.’

Remus only shook his head, scowling at the other man. As he headed out the room he shot a look at Hermione, who immediately stood, thanked nobody in particular, and followed him out.

Remus was walking extremely quickly and Hermione was almost struggling to follow. When she caught up with him, he sighed, his expression softening.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Just grappling with my temper.’

She smiled. ‘I didn’t realise you had one.’

‘It was worse when I was younger, as Sirius was kindly informing everyone,’ Remus explained. ‘As I’ve grown older I’ve tried to remain as calm as possible at all times. But he knows how to bring it out of me.’

‘I always thought…’

‘What?’

‘That Sirius was more respectful towards your lycanthropy,’ she said. They were nearing the portkey now.

He sighed. ‘Oh, he is. He’s been one of the most supportive people in my life. Even after twelve years of Azkaban he was unbelievably kind and sympathetic. But sometimes, after he’s had a few drinks…’

‘I suppose that goes for most people,’ Hermione mused.

He nodded. ‘Try not to think badly of him. He brings out the worst in me, but brings out the best in me too,’ he said. 

Hermione understood. Her friends were often the same. But there was one thing she didn’t quite understand.

‘What was he talking about?’ she asked cautiously. 

‘At what point?’

‘When he said, ‘I bet you do’, or something.’

Remus stiffened, his expression hardening again. They’d approached the portkey now, and Remus drew his wand, muttering some passcode of some kind, and picked it up.

‘Ten seconds,’ he said, holding the glove out for Hermione to hold. She grasped it tightly, shutting her eyes.

She counted down from ten in her head and, at one, she felt the very same sensation as earlier; being hooked and dragged upwards like a fish on a line, thrust and thrown about amidst the elements – until she found herself lying on a familiar floor on her stomach. The sight and smell and noises of Remus’s office had never been more comforting, and to her great relief, Draco was asleep on the armchair she’d left him in, looking the most peaceful she’d ever seen him.

Remus landed a split second after Hermione had, thrown almost dangerously close to the fireplace. He rubbed his forehead and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and breathing out.

‘Next time I won’t be so lazy, and gain the clearance to use the Floo Network,’ he said.

Remus’s voice startled Draco from his slumber and he awoke suddenly, looking about the room confusedly.

‘Hello,’ Hermione said.

‘How long were you gone?’

‘How long have you been asleep?’ she asked. Remus walked across the room to his kitchen area, heating the kettle manually and removing cups and saucers from his cupboards by hand. She guessed he was too exhausted to use magic – she knew she was.

Draco blinked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. ‘I, uh… after you left I just closed my eyes for a bit and…’

‘You were sleeping the whole time?’ she said. ‘We were gone about six hours.’

‘You’re late, then, Miss Perfect,’ Draco grumbled, sitting up in his chair. ‘How was it?’

Hermione hesitated. ‘Good.’

Remus snorted from across the room, and Draco raised his eyebrows.

‘Well, it started off good. And then became great, and then went back to good, and then rapidly became... not so good.’

Draco smirked. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Yes, I thought you might be,’ Hermione huffed. She went to sit opposite him, but Remus approached with a plate of tea, and she stopped.

‘What’re you doing?’ he asked.

‘I don’t want to sit in your chair.’

Remus eyed her. ‘What?’

‘It’s your chair,’ she mumbled.

‘Don’t be silly.’ 

She smiled at him, though quickly stopped when she saw Draco rolling his eyes.

‘Maybe you’d have been better off spending the whole day here then,’ Draco said nonchalantly, watching Remus grab his chair from his desk to pull up next to Hermione.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘What, and sleep all day?’

Draco shrugged. ‘Would it have been so bad?’

She smiled warmly at him. ‘No. Maybe not.’

The hours passed astonishingly fast for the remainder of Christmas Day. At the start of term, if somebody had told Hermione that she’d be spending her Christmas not at home, not with all her closest friends and family, but in a dusty little office with her werewolf professor and irritable enemy-turned friend, she’d have thought them mad. Now, she couldn’t imagine spending her time anywhere else.


	18. Boxing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just to warn anyone, some violence and a bit of gore in this chapter. x

As an introvert, Hermione needed time alone to recuperate after extended periods of time with lots of people; particularly after the conflict of Christmas Day. Though, she didn’t think any worse of anybody. Her parents were mild-mannered, lovely people, sensible and polite – and even they could get rowdy after drinking and excitement and the unrivalled pressure of Christmas. Still, it was for this reason that she always preferred Boxing Day, when everyone was tired and worn out and just wanted to enjoy their new things and have a little space to themselves.

Hermione enjoyed it so much that she was uncharacteristically late to Remus’s office that evening. As she dashed through the corridors she glanced at her clock. She hadn’t quite gained Remus’s uncanny ability to predict the time of transformation, but she knew it was within the hour.

She passed Peeves on the way, though he was the only person she saw. Luckily, he didn’t make much of an effort with her. With the castle empty and his favourite staff to irritate absent, he’d been moping around the corridors all day and night, looking for things to break, though overall quite bored. 

Remus was pale when he let her in. It seemed to be too much of an effort to even get up and open the door for her, because he’d immediately slumped back into his chair hugging a cushion against his stomach.

‘After this transformation I’m going to just teach you the damn passcode,’ he grumbled.

‘Sorry I’m so late,’ she said, sitting opposite. ‘Do you… want anything? To drink, perhaps?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Thank you. Wolfsbane leaves a terrible aftertaste. Makes everything taste like mud and medicine for about an hour.’

She nodded, noticing he was clenching his timepiece in his hand. ‘How long now?’

‘Twenty minutes.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘Sorry, I’m a lot later than I thought.’

He shrugged. ‘You’ve not missed anything. I was sick earlier. I’m not sure you’d have wanted to be around for that.’

She bit her lip and gazed out at the open window. The moon was in full view, perfectly circular, brilliant, silver, hanging in the sky like an elaborate jewel. She wondered why he kept the curtains open. It’s not like it had any effect, biologically. If anything, she’d have thought it emotionally distressing. Perhaps he admired it in some strange way.

They had been enjoying the gentle crackling of the fireplace when, suddenly, there was a great flutter of sparks and a burst of flames. Remus practically leapt out of his skin and gathered himself to his feet, and driven with a nauseating sense of urgency, Hermione got up and followed, joining his side as he kneeled at the hearth.

There, all amongst the wood and coal and fire was a face of flames and ash – a face belonging to none other than Sirius Black. He blinked at Remus, breathing heavily, eyes wide in terror. She’d not seen such fear in his face for a long time, and it made her very, very scared.

‘Remus,’ Sirius spat, sparks flying out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘No time to explain. Harry in danger. Death Eaters. Attacking the Burrow. Get here now.’

‘Wait, it’s-’

‘Now!’ he choked. And with that, his face disappeared into the fire.

Remus stood and looked around the room, panicked. He was barefoot, sporting only a tatty old t-shirt and drawstring pyjama bottoms – hardly suitable for a battle in the middle of Winter. Hermione wasn’t much better in a jumper and jeans – she was just grateful she’d brought her wand. 

Remus ran into his bedroom and emerged only a short minute later in heavy robes and boots. He gazed at her for a second.

‘I – you – tell…’ he stuttered, looking at her helplessly. ‘Fuck. Just stay here.’

‘No!’ 

‘Hermione,’ he snarled. ‘There is no way you’re coming. Stay here. Don’t leave this room. Lock the door. I’ll be back soon.’

‘If you’re going so am I and we’re not arguing about this,’ she said. He’d already started for his desk where the glove still sat. She grabbed it as he did and he glared at her before swearing under his breath and running his free hand through his hair. His countdown was short. 

‘Two,’ he said. ‘One.’

A whirlwind threw them into the air and across the country and landed them in the same place as the day before, only a moderate distance from the Burrow. This time, both Hermione and Remus suffered an unsavoury landing as they were thrown into the ground alongside each other. They staggered to their feet and looked towards the Burrow. The sky was filled with lights. Hermione hardly had a moment to think before Remus had grabbed her hand and tore off towards the scene, his wand drawn, the old glove shoved into his cloak pocket. 

A few short seconds later and they’d reached the Burrow. Remus stopped in his tracks and dragged Hermione back to his side, pulling her behind him, putting himself between her and what faced them. What faced them was a horrific sight. Over Remus’s shoulder Hermione could make out a dozen, maybe more, tall black figures, cloaked in long black robes and horrifying masks. From the flashing illumination of the spells Hermione could roughly see the majority of the Weasleys, holding their own against the cloaked intruders. Hermione glanced upwards and could only just make out a long-haired redhead on a broom far overhead, violent sparks flying out from their wand, darting about the skies like a fly. It could only be Ginny.

It was raining furiously and absolutely freezing but Hermione was far too terrified to worry about that. She clung to Remus’s arm. 

‘Do you see Harry anywhere?’ he said, his eyes scanning the field.

‘No.’

‘Fuck,’ he breathed. He wasn’t moving. He didn’t appear to know what to do.

‘Sirius was in the Burrow,’ Hermione said, her mind racing. ‘He’s probably taken Harry in too. They’ll be after him.’

Remus finally unstuck his eyes from the battle and looked at her. He nodded. ‘Has to be.’

And with that, he’d grabbed her hand once more and pulled her forwards. Her legs were weak and shaking and she felt as though she were in a nightmare. She wished she were having a nightmare. Remus was pulling her alongside the midst of the battle, along the side-lines. He’d not shot a single spell. He appeared to be trying to remain as hidden as possible, but as they got nearer and nearer to the Burrow, they were noticed.

A tall and broad cloaked figure suddenly turned and, without a moment to spare, raised his wand to them and shot a furious fiery spell at the two of them. Remus deflected the spell and engaged the man, untangling his hand from hers. Hermione watched, her own wand in her hand, drawn but unmoving. She didn’t know what to do.

And then another cloaked man joined the first man’s side and Remus staggered backwards as he barely deflected their simultaneous stuns. But Hermione noticed the death eaters’ patience was wavering and their fury rising with every spell that Remus shrugged off. 

She staggered forward and joined his side, firing any and every spell she could think of. Remus managed to break the shield of one death eater and Hermione quickly cast a tongue tying curse. The man grappled at his throat helplessly, apparently choking on his words, his wand flapping about aimlessly in his hand. The other death eater’s attention temporarily faltered as he turned his wand to his companion, but before he could reverse the hex he was thrown backward, seemingly unconscious, lying unmoving in the mud. The silent death eater shot a few weak sparks from his wand and Hermione hastily stunned him.

Remus breathed heavily and looked to Hermione. He took out the glove from his pocket and thrust it into her hand. ‘Get to the Burrow. Give them the portkey. Sirius can use it. Go with them. Get to the Shrieking Shack.’

She nodded, albeit reluctantly, and looked to the Burrow. But before she could even take a step towards it, she felt the earth rumble beneath her feet. 

The light was blinding. The windows and doors shattered and burst from the building, flames and smoke swallowing the home and crumbling, debilitated and broken, to the ground in a horrific mess, its magic fading. Remus grabbed Hermione, pulling her close against him and throwing the two of them to the ground as the explosion filled the air. Hermione’s eyes were shut but she could hear the screaming.

But once the explosion settled, the fires swallowing up the remains of the Burrow, Remus did not move. She was face down on the ground and the impact had blurred her sight, the flaming ruins of the Burrow spinning madly.

He had not moved, even when the effects of the explosion settled.

‘Remus?’ she whispered.

Her heart stopped. He wasn’t moving.

Suddenly, he let out a stifled groan, which escalated into an agonised scream. Hermione’s eyes snapped open. She knew what was happening. He was transforming.

He couldn’t see him but she felt his body changing on top of her. She only wished she could block out his screams. She heard his clothes rip and felt them fall in shreds onto her body, and then she felt fur. After what felt like an eternity she felt him move away from her, whimpering, and she gathered herself to her feet, almost terrified to look.

She didn’t know what she expected. He looked exactly the same as he had the other two times she’d seen him in his wolf form. But the first time he was feral, mindless, acting on instinct. The second time he was embarrassed and timid but comfortable, safe and alone with Hermione in his office. This time was something else entirely. She imagined it was only a few steps away from his worst nightmare.

His head was bowed low and he was shaking, softly whining. She stepped over the remnants of his clothes and cautiously approached him. The thought struck her that, if she hadn’t brewed the wolfsbane properly, she was a dead woman.

He did not cower from her when she found herself at his side and raised a gentle hand to his face. He gazed at her. The look in his eyes told her that she’d brewed the potion properly. His eyes were as human as ever.

‘Remus,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s alright. We need to find Harry and Sirius.’

He considered her for a second. Then he stood, standing at his full height, towering above her and staring out at the flaming ruins. They were still far away from where most of the battle had taken place between the Weasleys and the Death Eaters. She could see figures in the distance, where the battle had shifted, both cloaked and not, crouched and poised, some stood, some kneeling. She knew his senses were much better than hers when he was like this. He was assessing the situation, and she took great relief in the fact that, for a giant wolf, he didn’t look too concerned.

He was sniffing the air. Hermione absentmindedly copied, but she only smelled smoke, and could taste blood where she’d bitten her lip.

‘Are you getting anything?’ she asked.

Suddenly, his head snapped to look at the cloaked figures, who appeared to be gathering. Through all the smoke she couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

‘Oh God,’ she breathed.

But Remus had already tore off at alarming speed. Before she had time to even realise he’d run off, he was already halfway to them. She broke into a run and sped after him, but she was no match.

Her lungs were half filled with smoke and she was choking painfully as she got near enough to the scene to see, with clarity, what was happening. 

In a few split seconds she tried to order in her mind the events of the last few minutes. She could only assume that Sirius and Harry had been forced out of hiding in the Burrow by the explosion. They’d emerged relatively unscathed but had not emerged unnoticed for long. They were being cornered. For some reason the death eaters were not brutally attacking them. Sirius and Harry were defending themselves against stuns and debilitating hexes, nothing fatal, nothing that would could seriously injure them. She guessed that they needed them alive. 

Hermione was still a good distance away when Remus had approached them. She’d heard the death eaters’ terrified screams even from where she was. A couple had fled immediately, disappearing in a strange black smoke she’d never witnessed before. Some had been frozen to the ground with fear. Some turned their attention from Harry and Sirius to Remus, and their wands.

Hermione wasn’t aware that a werewolf was so impervious to spells. Every spell that met him barely made a scratch. A powerful explosion spell that would have knocked any person off their feet only rippled through his fur. 

She reached the scene. Even more of the death eaters were fleeing as they realised there was little they could do. 

‘SECTUMSEMPRA!’

Hermione felt as though her heart were about to leap out of her throat. She knew that spell. She knew it first-hand. It’d sliced her up like a warm knife through butter. 

She turned to find the death eater that had cast the spell. It had not been aimed at a person. It had been aimed at Remus. The death eater’s arm was shaking and he’d stuttered. The spell was poorly performed. Hermione vividly remembered Snape saying that Draco would have only injured, not killed.

The spell had little effect, apart from making Remus angry. She couldn’t remember being so frightened. He bore his teeth. A little blood trickled down his back. She caught a glimpse of his wound. It was hardly a scratch. She breathed and looked over at Harry and Sirius. Sirius was urging Harry away, off to God knows where. She only hoped he knew what he was doing.

Remus was growling. Some of the death eaters who had previously been occupied with the Weasleys were approaching cautiously. Hermione prayed that they were all alive.

‘Cast it again!’ one barked. The death eater quivered. 

‘Sect – secta-’

Remus didn’t give the man a second chance. He’d leapt forward with terrifying strength and thrown himself on top of the man. He clawed at his face. The mask was dragged off and deep gashes tore his face. The man was screaming and Remus was lowering his head, his huge teeth bared. He was going to bite him.

The death eaters stared at them. Hermione stared at them. She took a deep breath. 

‘Get out of here!’ she yelled. ‘Unless you want your friend bitten.’

Remus growl grew momentarily quieter, as though he were listening.

‘And I can assure you there’s plenty to go round!’ she yelled. 

The masked men looked around. They were powerless. One raised his wand and Hermione quickly drew hers.

‘Now!’ she barked.

The death eaters threw their wands into the air and a black smoke whisked them away. In a few moments there were gone. Remus drew back from the death eater he had pinned. The man, bloody and weak, wriggled around on the floor helplessly before finding his wand and following suit.

She looked at Remus. He had stopped growling but she could hear him breathing deeply. She took a step towards him. 

‘We need to check if everyone’s alright,’ she said quietly.

When she took another step closer he drew back sharply. He almost snarled. She stared at him in shock. He did not look at her. Then he retreated, tearing off into the distance. She watched him disappear off in the direction of the orchard.

‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit,’ she muttered. 

Sirius and Harry were long gone. She had no idea where they’d disappeared off to but they’d headed the same way that Hagrid and the Lovegoods left the day before. Her best guess what that they were seeking shelter with friends. The Diggorys lived nearby, too – she knew Cedric vaguely, and his father. They were good people. She hoped her friends would find safety with them.

She was so desperately tempted to disappear herself. Remus had shoved her the portkey and it was sat in her pocket, but she didn’t know how to use it. It demanded a type of passcode or something and only Remus – and apparently Sirius – knew it. To her it was just a tatty old glove.

She wanted to follow Harry and Sirius. It wouldn’t be an entirely selfish act – she would be checking if they were okay. But she needed to know how the Weasleys were.

There was nobody immediately near her. In fact, she was very much alone. 

She almost screamed when she heard a small commotion behind her, drawing her wand and twisting on her heel.

‘Hermione! It’s me!’

Ginny had landed, her broomstick falling to the ground at her feet. It was singed slightly. To say Ginny looked windswept would be the understatement of the century. Her ponytail had come loose, her hair wild, tangled and messy, her face red from the cold, her eyes bloodshot and watering.

‘Ginny!’ Hermione lowered her wand and grabbed her, pulling her into a hug. She didn’t want to let go of her.

Ginny appeared to feel the same way, her hands tightly grasping Hermione’s clothes. ‘God, I’m so scared, I don’t know what’s happening, I just…’

‘We need to find your family,’ Hermione said, pulling back to face her friend. Ginny was tearing up.

‘Oh, God,’ she cried. ‘They came and I was already practising on my broom and mum told me to get in the air so I did and I tried to be helpful but when the – the,’ she stared at the flaming rubble of the Burrow, and tears began to stream down her face. ‘When it happened I was just so scared and I went off in the other direction as far as I could and oh, God, I’m a coward, they could be…’

‘Ginny,’ Hermione said calmly, ‘you’re smart, not a coward. You don’t run towards an explosion. Listen to me. We have to find your family. We need to get on that broomstick and look for them.’

She nodded, swallowing and bending down to grab it. She perched on the front. Hermione usually despised flying but she had little choice. She grasped Ginny’s waist and wrapped her legs tightly around the broomstick and tried to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as she rose into the air.

They only had to fly a few minutes before they saw figures down below. ‘There!’ Ginny cried. Hermione managed a small moan in response and Ginny plummeted down. Hermione felt as though she were about to be sick.

They first saw Molly, then Arthur, then the twins. Fred and George were sat together against the stump of a tree. They were sporting cuts and bruises and black eyes and deep gashes in their arms and legs. But they didn’t seem all that bothered. They were staring at the Burrow.

Molly was busy fussing over the two of them, muttering healing spells left, right and centre. Ron was stood in surprisingly good condition, with only a cut on his cheek. He was stood, cross-armed, staring at the ground.

‘Ron!’ Hermione yelled. He looked up and he closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘Oh, fucking hell, Hermione, I didn’t even know you were here,’ he said almost laughingly, reaching out to pull her into his arms. ‘I guess you were with Lupin. Christ. I saw him.’

Hermione nodded. She raised her wand and lifted it to his cheek gently. 

‘Episkey,’ she said. The wound knitted together and she wiped away the blood with her thumb. He smiled at her weakly. 

‘Thank you,’ he breathed. 

Arthur appeared and clapped his hand on Hermione’s shoulder. ‘Thank God you’re safe, Hermione. If you’ve got it in you we could use a bit of help in that department,’ he said, nodding at Ron and his healed wound.

She nodded, looking around. They were in a clearing on the outskirts of the Burrow. Molly was still tending to the twins. Hermione then saw Bill, Charlie and Percy. Charlie was in good form, pacing, the silvery burn on his arm shimmering in the moonlight. She’d almost missed Bill slumped on the ground. Fleur, who had seemingly taken part in the fight, was crouching over him, examining his left leg. He was barely responsive, just groaning in pain, his head lolling backwards.

Percy was lying on the ground. Ginny was sat alongside him, looking as though she were trying not to cry. Hermione suddenly felt dreadful.

‘Oh my – oh, God, is he okay?’ she asked Arthur.

Arthur nodded slowly. ‘He’s stunned but it’s a nasty one. He might not be up til tomorrow, maybe a day or two.’

‘But Ginny…’

‘She’s overwhelmed,’ Arthur said. He shook his head. ‘Everyone is. But everyone’s alive. By some miracle. That’s what matters.’

Hermione nodded. ‘What can I do?’

Charlie had stopped pacing and heard her offer for help. He looked at her. ‘You can make mum sit down for five seconds so I can have a look at her burns,’ he said angrily.

Molly looked up and glared at him. Hermione saw it now – part of her face and neck was red and looked agonisingly painful. But she refused to step away from the twins. 

‘I don’t have time to sit down,’ she snapped. ‘Look at them!’

Fred and George didn’t appear to have the energy to fight her. George was resting his head on his brother’s shoulder, Fred resting his on his brother’s head. 

Charlie scowled at her. 

‘Mrs Weasley,’ Hermione breathed. ‘Please, let Charlie look at that, I can tend to the twins for a moment.’

Molly stared at her for a moment, but submitted. She fell to the ground next to George, exhausted. Charlie immediately joined her side and began to inspect the burns. Hermione guessed he was fairly expert at dealing with burns by now, after all his years of living alongside dragons.

Hermione looked at Fred. His mother had fixed a broken nose and healed his cuts, but it looked as though his eye was damaged.

‘Where does it hurt?’ she asked him. He glanced at her and shrugged. She sighed.

‘I’m going to try and fix your eye. It looks as though it took a hit,’ she said. 

She muttered a spell under her breath and the tip of her wand glowed. His eye fluttered against the light for a moment. It faded and he blinked, tearing up, but it looked as though it were healed. His face was clean of cuts and bruises so she examined his head, neck and the rest of his body. After correcting a dislocated finger and stitching a deep gash in his right thigh she moved onto George, who was just as responsive.

She didn’t try and talk to them – she just worked silently. She had just finished tending to a minor fracture in George’s arm when Molly, a silvery patch of skin now in the place of the burn, had wriggled out of Charlie’s care and returned to the twins.

‘Thank you, dear,’ she said softly, smiling at her weakly. ‘I’ve got it from here.’

Hermione nodded. She knew Molly would feel best taking care of her children. She stepped aside and looked to Percy. She didn’t think she had the skill to awake him. Remus probably could, she thought.

Remus.

He’d gallivanted off to the orchards and left her alone. She wanted to be mad at him but she’d seen the look in his eyes.

Fleur had stood and was brushing herself off. Somehow she still looked impeccable. She was clearly a skilled witch, with no wounds to speak of, though her clothes had been ripped in places and her hair was singed. She’d clearly already been taken care of. She smiled at Hermione.

‘Bill will be fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘He ‘as a bad leg. It will ‘eal.’

Hermione nodded and smiled at the woman. She looked to Arthur, who was sat next to Percy. A cloak now blanketed his body. Ginny and Ron were both examining him for any damage.

‘I think Sirius and Harry went to the Lovegoods,’ Hermione said. ‘Or the Diggorys. In that direction, anyway. Perhaps that would be a good place to spend the night.’ She was suddenly very aware of the freezing cold now that everything had calmed down.

Arthur nodded. ‘It’s a short walk. We’ll get there when Molly’s sorted out the boys,’ he said. 

‘Do you need any help?’ Hermione asked.

Arthur blinked at her. ‘Well, aren’t you coming anyway? Where will you go?’

‘I have to find somebody,’ she said. 

‘Who?’

‘Professor Lupin,’ she said, starting to lose her patience. ‘He ran off somewhere. I need to check he’s not hurt. He took a lot of hits.’

‘Someone should go with you,’ Ron said, standing. Ginny got up too.

‘No,’ Arthur said. ‘No. I’m not having you all running off the moment we all get back together. You’re staying right here.’

‘But dad,’ Ginny groaned.

‘But nothing,’ Arthur snapped. ‘There will be no negotiation. Hermione isn’t my daughter so I’m not going to tell her what to do. But you are, so you stay right here.’

Ron groaned. ‘But she can’t go off by herself!’

‘I can handle it,’ Hermione said.

‘Are you sure?’ Arthur asked. 

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

She nodded. He sighed and shook his head.

‘Some of us will be at the Lovegoods’ place. Be there tomorrow with Remus first thing in the morning. If you’re not there we’ll send out a search. If you need help shoot red sparks into the sky. We’ll be looking out for you.’

Hermione nodded. She smiled at Ginny and Ron before heading off from the clearing. 

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was. She headed towards the Burrow, putting out as much of the fires as she could as she walked through the ruins, but it was little use. 

After a few minutes she looked around, trying to work out where she was, where she had been. She remembered Remus transforming near here. She walked a little way and found his shoes, ripped robes and, luckily, his wand. She gathered as much as she could in her arms but they were heavy and long and far too cumbersome to carry. She arranged them as best she could on the ground and repaired them. She decided to just take his cloak with his wand in the pocket, pulling it around herself and heading off towards the orchard.

Luckily the ground was wet and sodden and his giant paw prints were hard to miss. She followed them at a jog. When she entered the orchard she cast a lumos, the trees shadowing the path. She half expected a death eater to leap out and grab her in this darkness. It was almost too quiet.

The paw prints led straight to him and she was shocked at how close she’d managed to get to him before she even noticed he was there. He was almost perfectly silent but he was clearly awake, alive, and well.

‘Remus,’ she breathed. He snuffled and went to stand, as though he were about to run away again.

‘Don’t you dare run off,’ she warned. He stared at her, unmoving, silent. She couldn’t believe she was threatening this massive wolf.

‘I need to know you’re okay. Everyone is fine. They’re all going off to find shelter. You should come too.’

He snorted in what sounded like a protest and went to stand again. She scowled at him.

‘What, do you want to sit here all night? In the mud and freezing cold? Why? Because you don’t want anyone to see you?’

He sighed. 

She shook her head. ‘I suppose it’s not all that bad out here for you,’ she said, looking up. While the trees covered most of the sky she could make out a blanket of stars above her.

‘Well if you’re not going, I’m staying here too,’ she said. He let out a growl. It wasn’t aggressive. It sounded like a retort.

‘Oh, shut up,’ she said. ‘I’m exhausted. I’m worried. I won’t sleep until I know you’re alright, at least.’

He didn’t make a sound. She raised an eyebrow and moved closer to him. He didn’t respond. When he was sat down he was at eye level. She raised her wand and ran the light down the length of his body. He only sported the shallow gash that was given to him by the Sectumsempra spell. She wondered whether normal healing spells would affect him – the others hadn’t. She tried the Episkey spell but it had no effect, apart from accidentally healing the cut on her own lip.

She sighed. ‘It’s not serious. You’ve dealt far worse to yourself, I think,’ she said, thinking about his many scars. ‘I’ll just tend to this the muggle way. So it doesn’t get septic.’

She pulled up her jumper. She had a shirt on underneath and she ripped off a strip of the material around her stomach with her wand. It was hardly long enough to wrap around his body. She tapped it with her wand and watched as the material extended until it was longer than twice of her. She cleaned the blood from his wound and wrapped the cloth round his body, shoving him so she could reach. She tied a knot. It would do for the night.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’m not covered in fur. I’m freezing. Can I…’

She looked at him pointedly. He sighed. She took that as consent. He was lying curled up on his side. She settled into him, nestling her head into his neck, stroking his face gently. He was wonderfully warm. He seemed almost at peace. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep or for how long she was awake, curled up with him, but before she knew it she was dreaming. Her dreams, despite the events of the day, were not unpleasant at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I really loved writing this chapter (which is why it's slightly longer than the average chapter length...) and so I wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support. Thank you so much for commenting and leaving kudos - it really means a lot! xxx


	19. Aftermath

It was light when she woke up. Her eyes opened slowly. She was confused and disorientated and it took her a few seconds to realise where she was and why. Then the memories of the night before all flooded back at once.

She was not preoccupied with these thoughts for long, however, because she noticed the arm draped around her waist and the leg hooked over hers. She blinked. She didn’t want to move. He was still asleep, apparently, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. She felt the heat rising in her face and her heart started pounding in her chest. Remus was lying behind her, his limbs tangled in hers. And possibly the most startling of all, she could feel him intimately. He was hard and pressing into her hip. Her heart raced even faster. 

Maybe he’d sensed her body changing in this way because immediately he stirred. She remained as still and silent as she could, closing her eyes. She felt him quickly remove himself from her and move a little distance away, grumbling slightly, swearing under his breath.

‘Hermione,’ he said. 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t want him to know she’d let him sleep there against her.

‘Hermione, I know you’re awake,’ he said flatly.

She didn’t move.

‘You’re forgetting I have better senses than most,’ he sighed. ‘Besides, I’m not an idiot.’

She swore silently and sat up, turning to look at him.

‘Don’t – don’t look!’ he snapped. But she’d not reacted fast enough. He was sprawled on the ground, completely unclothed, his hands stuffed between his thighs in an attempt to retain his decency. 

‘Hermione!’

She stared for a few long seconds before turning away. She’d seen him shirtless before but not quite like this. He was thin, lean, fair skinned, not very hairy. He had many silvery scars lining the length of his body, including the most recent, her makeshift bandage lying on the ground next to him. He was flushed from his head to his navel and he was blinking rapidly, struggling to speak. She quickly turned her back to him.

‘Sorry,’ she stammered. 

He grunted. ‘Can I have the cloak?’

She was too embarrassed to speak. Wordlessly she shrugged off his cloak, still wrapped around her person, and tossed it behind her. She heard him fumble with it for a moment.

‘All clear,’ he mumbled. She turned and he was sat against a tree, his cloak drawn right over him. 

‘Uh… good morning,’ she said, still blushed.

He chuckled. ‘If we could pretend like the last thirty seconds didn’t happen, it’d be greatly appreciated on my part.’

She nodded, chewing her lip. 

‘Uh… how long were you awake?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Only a few moments before you moved.’

‘Right.’ He looked even more embarrassed than she did. She must’ve been staring at him inappropriately, because he flushed and cleared his throat.

‘Uh, you should know that, um, sometimes, in the morning – it’s completely involuntary – nothing personal – I don’t, um…’

She couldn’t help but burst into giggles.

‘Oh, don’t,’ he said, groaning. 

‘I’m sorry. But to be fair, you saw me naked, so really, this is justice in a way,’ she said, shrugging.

‘I suppose you can see it like that,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘But it’s not exactly my fault. You were the one that decided to sit on me.’

‘I thought you gave me permission,’ she said.

‘I certainly did not,’ he said. ‘In fact, I was trying to communicate to you that I am not for sleeping on.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Well, I’m sorry Remus, but I don’t speak werewolf, believe it or not.’

‘Well, next time I disagree I’ll tear your arm off. Will that make things clearer?’

‘Very much so,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Though, you didn’t exactly put up a struggle.’

He scowled. ‘I was too tired to fight you off last night. Death eaters are one thing but you’re rather another. But for future reference, I am not for sleeping on.’

‘But you are very warm,’ she insisted. ‘And quite large, and really soft.’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad I was of use as your bed for the evening.’

‘You’re the one that wanted to sleep in the mud and the cold all night.’

‘Perfectly adequate conditions for a wolf.’

‘But you knew I wasn’t going anywhere.’

‘I did not. I thought you much were smarter than that, in fact. But apparently not.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘It wasn’t… unpleasant, though.’

He smiled at her warmly. ‘No. It wasn’t.’

But his smile immediately fell, and his expression changed quite dramatically. It was as though something had just dawned on him.

‘What’s that look for?’ she asked.

He blinked at her.

‘None of this makes sense,’ he said. 

‘What?’

‘None of it. The attack. The death eaters. The transformation.’

Hermione gazed at him. She was far too tired to know what on earth he was going on about. She drew her wand and cast a spell on the earth beneath her – it dried, the mud hardening. He watched her magically remove the dirt from her clothes and hair and skin, still looking incredibly puzzled.

‘It feels surreal,’ he said.

She sighed. ‘Remus, it’s too early. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just exhausted and worried and scared and…’ she shook her head.

‘Listen. The Burrow is protected. With powerful, powerful magic.’

‘Not as powerful as we thought,’ Hermione mumbled.

He nodded. ‘Apparently so. The death eaters managed to bring it down. That doesn’t just happen, you know. It’s not easy to take down something so magically enforced. They must have been breaking its defences down. It would’ve taken weeks.’ He looked practically nauseous.

‘They guessed Harry would be at the Burrow at some point over the holidays. They prepared for the battle in advance,’ Hermione said, rubbing her head.

‘The same people who managed a feat as huge as that and were so… timid,’ he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

‘Timid?’ she said. She laughed bitterly. ‘Funny, timid isn’t the word I’d use.’

‘Their spells were, well – they clearly aren’t against dark magic. Their form of transport – the black smoke? – that’s dark magic. And I strongly believe dark magic was used to break down the Burrow.’

‘And?’

‘During the actual fight they used hexes and spells you’re taught at school,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t they use the killing curse? The torture curse? They can’t have been the truly powerful dark wizards. They were grunts.’

She shrugged. ‘It seemed like they wanted Harry alive.’

‘But why would they need us alive? Or Sirius, who was probably primarily responsible for Harry’s escape?’ 

She shrugged.

He shook his head. ‘It’s all wrong.’

They sat in silence for a moment. She looked at him.

‘You’re human again,’ she said.

He chuckled. ‘I noticed, yes.’

‘Your transformation didn’t… wake me up,’ she said.

He nodded slowly. Then his face began to redden.

‘It didn’t wake me up, either,’ he added hastily. ‘God, I wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have transformed and then… returned to that… position,’ he said, his face scarlet.

She stared at him. ‘Your transformation didn’t wake you up?’

‘No!’ he snapped. ‘What do you think – do you think I’m some kind of – no!’

She blinked. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just that, you know, I thought your bones cracking into a new formation and the fur sinking back into your skin might’ve woken you up.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes. Believe me, I’m more confused about this than you are.’

He stood suddenly, careful to keep the cloak tightly wrapped around him. He took in a lungful of the morning air, and began to laugh.

She stared at him. Was he going mad? Had a spell from the night before given him brain damage?

‘What is so funny?’ she asked, standing up too.

‘God. You do not understand how good I feel right now,’ he said, stretching and gazing around happily at the orchard. 

‘…Good? You feel good?’

He nodded, beaming. ‘I’m not tired. I’m not aching. My bad leg feels fine. Sometimes I can’t walk after a full moon, it’s so painful.’

She stared at him. ‘Your transformation didn’t wake you up, and you feel good right now?’

‘Don’t ask me why.’

Hermione had explained that they needed to be at the Lovegood home soon, before Arthur grew worried and sent out a search party. They followed the path out of the orchard, and headed towards their house. It was only a short walk, and Remus appeared to be enjoying the exercise.

‘I feel great,’ he said, for perhaps the sixth time.

‘Why?’ she asked, staring at him. ‘I mean, I’m happy for you, but this is… unheard of, isn’t it?’

He sighed. ‘Well. Not entirely unheard of.’

‘Huh?’

‘I learnt about painless transformations while abroad,’ he said. ‘I didn’t even know they existed before. But the elders of some packs can occasionally manage it. They meditate and introspect and follow a strict diet and, if they’re lucky, they can transform in their sleep, like I – apparently – did last night.’

‘But… you don’t do all that, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘The low success rate makes the hours of doing nothing but strict meditation and eating nothing but raw meat puts me off, frankly,’ he said.

She grimaced. ‘Raw meat?’

He nodded. ‘The elders’ philosophy was that, to reduce the agony of transformation, they needed to become more in tune with their… other half,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘Synchronising with the wolf side, rather than repressing it. They lectured me, saying my abhorrence towards what is, essentially, an inseparable part of myself, only made the transformations and side effects worse. If you embrace it and focus on it within yourself, rather than fighting it, a werewolf will live a better life.’

She nodded.

‘I thought it was all hippie drivel,’ he said bluntly. ‘Mainly because it didn’t even work for them very often. They still had to deal with it like I did.’ 

‘But clearly it’s possible. To have a painless transformation, I mean.’

He nodded. ‘I don’t know how much it has to do with the diet and meditation and so on. That’s not to say that it’s all complete hogwash – their lifestyles enabled them to retain their minds without wolfsbane, some of them.’

‘That’s… that’s amazing,’ she said.

‘Indeed. I don’t think they thought much of me,’ he laughed. ‘A foreigner – an Englishman, in fact – telling them I needed a week’s worth of potions to get through the night. It wasn’t always available. Often they like to… go feral, as it were.’

Hermione hummed. Now that she was fully awake, she could appreciate why Remus had been so confused before. He was right. It was surreal.

They walked in silence for a while, but every so often she would glance at him, and he looked as though he were trying to find the words to say something. She, too, was having that trouble, and after a while she simply couldn’t hold it in for any longer.

‘Why did you run away yesterday?’ she said.

He stopped in his tracks, and she did too. He sighed, gazing at a nearby tree and deciding to lean against its trunk. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

‘Because… because I knew you were safe.’

‘You didn’t know that,’ she muttered.

‘I did, Hermione. I could smell it. Every death eater had gone. It was just you, and Ginny was approaching. I could smell the Weasleys about half a mile away. I knew you’d be fine.’

She tried not to show how impressed she was with his abilities as she replied. ‘So you left me because you knew I didn’t need a bodyguard?’ she snapped. ‘Maybe I wanted you to stay with me. Maybe, you tearing off into this place was terrifying for me. I didn’t know how you were. You might’ve been hurt. Seriously hurt.’

‘You saw that I wasn’t. Spells don’t have that much of an effect on werewolves,’ he said. But something was bothering him. ‘Then again, they should have had more of an effect than they did.’

‘I thought it was a bit ridiculous. The way you just… shrugged off everything they hit you with.’

He nodded. ‘Another thing that doesn’t make sense.’ 

‘But that’s not the point,’ she said quickly. ‘I was worried. Didn’t you even care?’

He turned to look at her finally. He was scowling.

‘You honestly think I don’t care?’ he spat. ‘I didn’t even want you to come to the Burrow. But I didn’t have the time, or the energy, to argue with you. I’d have been there hours, you’re so stubborn.’

She ignored that last comment. ‘So why did you just run off? And leave me? With no idea what was happening? I don’t have a superhuman sense of smell, by the way, so there was no guarantee I’d find the Weasleys.’

‘Because…’ he shook his head. ‘I was hugely, horribly, painfully humiliated.’

She almost had to bite down a laugh, but when she saw the look on his face, she didn’t want to laugh at all. 

‘I transformed on top of you,’ he said, shutting his eyes and wincing. ‘Then I sensed Harry and Sirius and I saw the looks on their faces as they saw me. Harry especially. Sirius is used to it, but…’ he shook his head. ‘He was scared. I knew he was. He didn’t know whether I’d taken my wolfsbane. He can usually tell, I know you can…’

She nodded. Remus on wolfsbane was a very different wolf.

‘But I must’ve looked like I wasn’t. I was just so angry and scared. And Harry, well, Harry looked more scared of me than the death eaters.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she muttered. He ignored her.

‘And… while it’s not a bad thing… the death eaters were terrified of me too. You saw them escape. A couple took one look and got out of there.’

She didn’t know what to say. It was an odd situation. The idea of terrifying your enemies seemed attractive, but Remus didn’t appear to be so pleased.

‘And that man,’ he said slowly. ‘The one I pinned down. I didn’t know him. But all I wanted to do was sink my teeth into his skin and ruin his life.’

She stared at him. He was glaring at his bare feet.

‘And I heard you, and you used it as a point of negotiation, like this were some kind of plan, like we’d discussed it before and I was in total control. You helped me come back to my senses, but I still…’ his voice trailed off.

‘You – you weren’t in total control?’

He grimaced. ‘It’s hard to explain. It’s like losing your temper and lashing out at someone. It feels totally rational at the time.’

She bit her lip. ‘To be fair, he had attacked you.’

‘Hermione, there’s a reason we don’t use the unforgivable curses whenever we see a death eater. It’s because good people, truly good people, don’t have it in them to perform the curse. You know, we’ve had first years discover the killing curse and try it out on their friends to see what would happen. It didn’t work, obviously. Not just because they were unskilled, but because their nature is too good, if stupid. Those curses need evil to work. Only evil people use them, only evil people do those things to others. Good people can’t do those things, and even if they could, they wouldn’t.’

‘What’s that got to do with you?’

‘It’s the same principle,’ he said. ‘I can’t go around biting people and killing people every full moon because I can and because someone pisses me off. I shouldn't have it in me to do those things. It isn’t self-defence at that point. It’s immoral.’

‘You didn’t bite him, though.’

‘I wanted to. God, I wanted to. It was…’

She blinked at him. ‘It was what?’

He took a deep breath. ‘It was worse with you there.’

She felt as though her heart had been stepped on. 

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

He looked up from his feet and gazed at her, his features softening. ‘Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… it’s harder to fight impulse, instinct, when someone or something I want to protect is in danger.’

She looked at him.

‘I care about you, Hermione,’ he said quietly. ‘And with you surrounded by death eaters who could kill you in an instant – I didn’t care if they died at my hand. I didn’t care about anything else. I just cared about your safety.’

She couldn’t help but smile, even though he was frowning shamefully. 

‘I’m sorry I said you didn’t care,’ she said softly. 

He shook his head. ‘Don’t apologise. I understand. I just didn’t want you to ever see me like that. I didn’t even know I was capable of it. Off wolfsbane, yes. But with my mind retained…’ he sighed. ‘It was monstrous of me.’

‘It was not,’ she said. ‘It’s normal to want to protect the people you…’ she swallowed. ‘Care about. It’s normal to lose your temper.’

He shrugged. ‘I was still embarrassed. I hated that you and everyone else saw me in that way. God knows what you think of me.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I don’t think any differently of you at all. In fact, I’m just…’ she took a deep breath. ‘I’m just really… honoured. That you care about me enough to want to protect me.’

He smiled. ‘Of course I do.’

Hermione beamed at him. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. I got into a fight with five Hufflepuffs because they were slagging you off. We all have our… weaknesses, or… something.’

He smirked. ‘Am I your weakness?’ he asked, grinning.

She flushed and crossed her arms. ‘I, uh, don’t like it when people are horrible about my friends.’

He hummed, still smiling. 

‘We better get to the Lovegoods,’ she said quickly. ‘I think we’re almost there.’

The morning was so peaceful. It felt like a completely different planet compared to last night; the birds were singing, the morning air was fresh and blissful, the skies were cloudy but bright. It was cold in a refreshing way. Hermione was freezing in just her jumper, but she didn’t complain. Remus didn’t have anything on under his cloak, after all. She found herself eyeing him without realising, and forced her eyes ahead. She thought he hadn’t noticed, but clearly he had.

‘What do you keep looking at?’ he asked, somewhat slyly.

‘I…um…’ she racked her brains. ‘You had a cut, last night. I don’t know if you still have it.’

He nodded. ‘I do. I retied the cloth earlier, when you weren’t looking.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Good.’

She wasn’t sure if it was just her but she felt that it was a little tense between them. So she was pleased when they finally found the Lovegood home. It was a huge, black, castle-like house. Ron had once described it as a giant rook, and it was a rather apt description. They made a beeline for the front door, and before they could even knock, the door was thrust open.

‘There you are!’ Molly breathed. Ron was standing over her shoulder and Ginny was bustling to try and get through. 

‘Are Harry and Sirius here?’ Remus asked, glancing past the Weasleys. Molly narrowed her eyebrows.

‘Hello to you too, Remus.’

Remus looked at her and pulled a face, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Molly. Hello. I’m just, uh, anxious to know where they are.’

‘They’re here,’ she said. She barked at Ginny and Ron to move out the way so Hermione and Remus could enter. Remus strolled into the house, the kitchen the first room, and headed straight up the stairs. Before Hermione could follow Molly had cornered her and began fussing.

‘Oh, dear, are you quite alright? Arthur was very worried, so was Ron, and Ginny’s been a nightmare, oh my. I’m so glad you found Remus, is he okay? Harry’s sleeping off the stress from yesterday, but he was so worked up and angry we had to sedate him, poor boy, Sirius is so worried, won’t leave his side, but Hagrid left as soon as we arrived, he’s contacting Dumbledore. Oh, you must be freezing, you would’ve been out all night in this bloody weather, let’s get you all warmed up – would you like a cup of tea?’

Hermione blinked at her, not quite sure how to respond to all that. Eventually she just nodded, and Molly smiled and went to put on the kettle.

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her up to the living room. Hermione hadn’t been in the house before but it was very much something she could imagine Luna living in; cluttered and messy and disorganised but strangely beautiful, colourful and arty and bright. Paintings littered the walls, of birds and flowers and butterflies. It was really quite lovely, but far too cramped to house everyone. She noticed most of the Weasleys and Fleur were missing.

‘Dad, Fleur and my brothers are at the Diggorys’ place,’ Ginny explained, reading Hermione’s expression. ‘But Percy’s upstairs. Still unconscious, but he’s alright. He woke up briefly but he was so exhausted he fell straight back asleep. I think it was all a bit much for him.’

‘You seem okay now,’ Hermione said.

‘I’m better,’ Ginny admitted. ‘But not great.’

Remus wasn’t in the living room. Ginny looked around. ‘He’s probably found Sirius. He’s watching over Harry in Luna’s room. Percy’s in her dad’s room.’

Hermione nodded. ‘Shall we go up?’

Ron walked up the staircase, balancing a tray of tea. He held it to his sister and Hermione.

‘I wouldn’t. It’s a bit overcrowded and Harry’s out cold, has been since he got here apparently. Luna and her dad are with the Diggorys sorting things out. I think they’re all a bit shaken. They don’t want to be next.’

Hermione squirmed. 

‘You might as well sit down,’ Ron said, shrugging. 

She nodded and found a little seat. She still had the portkey in her pocket. She desperately wanted to use it.

They sat in silence for a while before Ginny suddenly piped up. ‘Was Professor Lupin wearing anything under that cloak?’ she whispered excitedly.

Ron grimaced and rolled his eyes. ‘Ugh. Shut up, Ginny.’

‘I’m just wondering,’ she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘Hermione?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Well, no. He transformed and he didn’t have the rest of his robes. They sort of… got shredded.’

Ginny grinned and winked at Hermione. Ron watched the exchange, somewhat curious, mostly disgusted.

Molly appeared from the staircase. ‘Is Remus upstairs?’ she asked.

‘We think so,’ Ginny said.

‘Poor man. It must have been awful for him last night,’ she said, shaking her head. Then her eyes found Hermione.

‘Was he… like it, when you found him?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know… turned.’

Hermione nodded. 

‘And you stayed with him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, you good, brave girl. That must have been very scary,’ she said quietly, looking at Hermione with great pride.

‘Well, it wasn’t really.’

‘And you watched him transform?’ Molly whispered. ‘Oh, dear, I’m sorry you had to witness that.’

Hermione didn’t want to explain that neither had been awoken by his transformation. It was so alarmingly puzzling that she didn’t want to complicate things by getting everyone involved.

Remus and Sirius appeared as they descended the staircase. Remus had changed, apparently into some of Xenophilius’s robes. Luna’s dad was quite a bit taller and broader than he, and had a rather different dress sense to say the least. He looked utterly ridiculous in an oversized, light pink shirt and green trousers, but nobody had the energy to find it amusing.

‘Harry will be awake soon,’ Sirius said. ‘We’re going to apparate into Grimmauld Place. Xeno’s taken the jinxes down.’

‘The jinxes?’ Hermione asked.

‘The bastards put up anti-disapparation jinxes around here for miles,’ Sirius said angrily.

‘That’s why nobody could simply apparate out of the Burrow yesterday,’ Remus explained.

‘But the death eaters did,’ Ginny pointed out.

‘They used a different version of apparition, a darker form,’ Remus said. ‘It was probably a way to get around the jinx they put up. They could leave, we couldn’t.’

‘Anyway,’ Sirius said impatiently, ‘I just want to get the boy home as soon as possible.’

‘For God’s sake, let him rest!’ Molly cried. ‘He was almost abducted last night!’

‘It was a rough night for everyone,’ Sirius spat. ‘You lost your home. Harry was their number one target. Remus…’ he looked at his friend, who simply stared at his feet. He didn’t need to say anymore.

Hermione was staring at Remus. 

‘Uh… you’re bleeding,’ she said.

Remus looked down. Red was starting to stain his pink shirt.

‘Oh…’

‘I can help,’ Hermione said, standing.

‘Oh nonsense, let me take a look, Remus,’ Molly said. ‘You sit down, dear, you must be exhausted.’

‘But I don’t think it’s a normal wound,’ Hermione said. ‘It was the Sectumsempra spell. Wasn’t it, Remus?’

He nodded. 

‘The sectum what?’ Molly asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

‘It’s some kind of dark magic. It was used against me once. It cut me up really badly, like invisible swords, and didn’t stop until Snape spoke this incantation…’

‘Do you remember it?’ Sirius asked, looking suspicious.

‘No,’ Hermione said, frowning. ‘I wasn’t fully conscious at the time, and it was complicated.’

‘But he’s been fine this whole time,’ Molly said. 

‘It didn’t affect me when I was changed,’ Remus said. ‘Little does. But now I’ve changed back its effects appear to be growing slowly worse.’ He was speaking calmly, though Hermione could tell he was getting nervous.

‘Oh, oh God,’ Molly said, looking as though she were on the verge of panicking. ‘If we don’t know the incantation, what do we do?’

‘You tried healing it normally?’ Ron asked.

Remus shook his head. Molly bustled over, slightly pushing Sirius out the way. ‘Take off your shirt, we’ll have a look.’

Remus reddened and glanced about the room.

‘Oh, don’t be coy, Moony,’ Sirius said, smirking.

Remus scowled at him and unbuttoned the shirt, his face the same shade of pink. Molly drew away the blood and muttered the healing spell. It didn’t work.

‘Shit,’ Sirius muttered.

‘Remus,’ Hermione said. ‘I have the portkey. We could get you to Madam Pomfrey, she might be able to stitch you up, but I’ll look for the incantation in Snape’s office. He’s so meticulous, he must have it written down and filed somewhere.’

‘Is there a way we can contact Professor Snape?’ Molly asked. Hermione saw Ron pull a face.

Remus glanced at Sirius. ‘Neither of us know how to reach him. He’s doing important work for the Order.’

Sirius nodded and sighed in defeat. ‘Looks like Hermione’s plan is the best, then.’

Hermione glanced around the room. ‘Do you want to come back to Hogwarts with us?’ she asked Ron and Ginny. 

‘I’d rather they stay here with me, Hermione,’ Molly said. ‘After all that, we need to stick together.’

‘Maybe Harry will, then? It might be safer for him there, in the castle…’

‘I’m taking him to Grimmauld Place,’ Sirius said sharply. ‘It’s protected by the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore’s the keeper.’

‘If only we’d taken those precautions,’ Molly sighed.

Sirius looked at her sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Molly. None of us realised we’d have to. It was so well enforced… none of us saw it coming last night.’

Molly nodded, crossing her arms. ‘You two better be off.’ 

Remus nodded. ‘Come on.’ 

Hermione pulled out the portkey and walked up to Remus, who pulled out his wand and activated it. Hermione glanced around the room at everybody before they were whisked away.


	20. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you enjoy. Just to say, there are some references to torture in this chapter.

Hermione was incredibly grateful that – for whatever reason – Remus had such a painless and easy transformation the night before, and that – again, for whatever reason – the normal side-effects of fatigue and nausea, to name a few, were absent the following day. Because if he were any worse, he wouldn’t have been able to cope with the wound in his chest growing worse by the second.

Remus had insisted that she head straight for the dungeons but she didn’t want to leave him until he was safe in Madam Pomfrey’s care. Luckily, she was obligated to stay at the castle when there were students on the premises. When they reached the infirmary, the matron took one look at Remus and rushed him to the nearest bed.

Before they could even begin to explain the situation, Madam Pomfrey had unbuttoned Remus’s shirt and performed a healing spell. It had no effect.

‘Uh, Madam Pomfrey…’

She ignored Hermione and tried again. Still no effect.

‘What – what on earth is going on?’ she said, staring at the both of them. Remus was looking pale and had started groaning, flopping his head onto the pillow.

‘It’s dark magic,’ Hermione breathed. ‘But it’s strange circumstances. It’s slow-acting when it normally wouldn’t be but it’s getting worse. I think I know, roughly, where I can find the incantation to reverse it, but I don’t know how long it will take me.’

Madam Pomfrey took but a second to register this information, much to Hermione’s relief, and nodded briskly. ‘I’ll do what I can in the meantime.’

Hermione looked at Remus. ‘I’ll be back soon, I promise.’

He grunted a response and she turned and ran out of the infirmary towards the dungeons as fast as she could.

When she got there, she was shocked to find Draco sat in the classroom, Crookshanks at his side.

‘Hi.’

She blinked at him. ‘I – sorry, I haven’t got any time.’

She rushed past him and headed straight for Snape’s office. 

‘Oi!’ Draco called.

She ignored him and entered the office. Luckily it was only locked simply, and she only needed to use the alohomora charm to open it – clearly, he trusted her. Or maybe he just had nothing to hide.

The office was relatively small, circular, with a desk in the centre. Potions and jars containing odd-looking things surrounded her, standing on shelves against the walls. She scanned the shelves, but they looked totally ordinary. The desk, then. She pulled open the drawers. The first was unlocked, and as she rummaged through it, it contained only homework and lesson plans. She swore and slammed it back in.

‘What’re you doing?’ Draco asked, standing in the doorway.

‘Looking – for – something.’

She opened the second drawer with the unlocking charm. It was just minor items that he’d apparently confiscated from students – mostly Weasley products, in fact. She closed it.

‘Looking for what?’

‘An incantation. For the Sectumsempra spell.’

She stopped, and stared at Draco.

‘Oh, God, Draco, he taught you the spell – do you know the way to reverse it?’

‘Why?’

‘Because Remus is hurt!’ she snapped. 

‘I – I can’t remember it.'

She groaned loudly and pulled open the third drawer. Curiously, it was filled with sweets. If it were any other time, she would have laughed at the fact someone like Snape had a drawer just for snacks.

‘But – but I think I remember…’

‘Remember what?’ she said as she unlocked the fourth drawer. It was trickier to open and would’ve defeated most people, but she was particularly adept at the spell. She was hopeful, but it just contained documents about the students. She swore and slammed it shut.

‘He had this book,’ he said.

‘A book?’

Draco had shut his eyes and was rubbing his temples, clearly trying to get his memory back. ‘He was telling me I needed to defend myself… told me about the Sectumsempra spell… and he got out some pen and paper and told me to write it down…’

She stared at him. ‘Where’s that? Do you have that?’ 

‘I kept it in my drawers with my homework and books but my roommates thought it would be funny to set all my things on fire,’ he said bitterly.

She groaned.

‘But he got out this book,’ he said. ‘An old potions textbook, and told me to copy the words down from that word for word.’

‘It’s from a book?’

‘He’d written the spell in it.’

She breathed. ‘Okay. We need to find that book.’

There was a fifth and final drawer left, in the centre of the desk. She tugged at it. Locked. She tried the alohomora charm. Nothing.

‘Fuck.’

‘Here, let me.’

She moved out of the way to allow Draco to stand in her place. He tapped a certain rhythm on the desk, just above the drawer. It clicked. 

‘You don’t know how much time I’ve spent in this damn office over the years,’ Draco said. ‘Heard that passcode a billion times.’

‘You beautiful boy,’ Hermione breathed. She pulled opened the drawer and rummaged around. It contained various notes, letters, a photograph – and a potions textbook.

‘That’s it,’ Draco said.

Hermione pulled it out and thrust it towards him. He took it and fingered its pages, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

‘It was somewhere around… here! That’s it!’

She nodded and took the book from him. She shut the drawer and looked at him. ‘Come on.’

Draco didn’t have time to respond – Hermione had already tore off through the dungeons and up the stairs. She heard him trip over Crookshanks behind her but didn’t stop to check if he was alright. In a moment she was at the infirmary, sick with exhaustion, but relieved to see Madam Pomfrey had taken care of him. Remus was resting peacefully on the hospital bed. She’d stopped the bleeding, but it looked bad.

‘Do you have it?’ Madam Pomfrey asked. Hermione nodded and drew her wand.

‘Thank Merlin,’ she breathed. ‘If it weren’t for his lycanthropy… it’s fought the spell this long.’

Hermione balanced the book in her left arm and stared at the scrawly writing. It was Snape’s – slightly different, and very old, but definitely Snape’s. ‘Sectumsempra’ was written in large – next to it, the words ‘for enemies’ had been added. Underneath was what she prayed was the incantation.

She took her wand and held it above Remus’s chest, and began reading aloud. It was really quite beautiful – songlike, even. They all watched as the redness began to fade, and the wound began to knit together bit by bit. It left a terrible scar right across his chest. But it was healed.

Hermione was so relieved and exhausted she dropped the book and sighed loudly. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God.’

Remus groaned a little as he sat up, running a hand along his chest. ‘The magic that was there has gone,’ he said, tracing the scar and wincing a little. He turned to Hermione. ‘Thank you, Hermione. You’ve saved my life.’

‘It was mainly Draco,’ she said, nodding at the boy next to her. He shrugged.

Remus blinked at them both. ‘Oh. Well, thank you, Draco. I owe you, truly.’

Draco crossed his arms and stared at the floor but Hermione saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile.

Remus thanked the matron and went to stand, but she shoved him back on the bed. 

‘No. You stay here until the morning.’

He sighed, but didn’t argue. He glanced at Hermione. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll visit.’

He smiled, and Madam Pomfrey took this as a farewell, as she shut the curtains around his bed and began to prepare whatever medicines he would need.

Hermione looked at Draco, who was staring at her oddly. ‘If you could explain, I’d really appreciate it.’

♦ ♦ ♦

They’d elected to go to the dungeons to talk, where they knew they’d have some privacy. Besides, Hermione needed to replace the textbook and erase any evidence she’d ever rummaged through his drawers.

Hermione had locked the door behind them as they entered and, just to be safe, applied some muffling charms – just so nobody could listen in through the door.

‘Ooh, serious, is it?’ Draco said, smirking. 

She flopped down on a chair and Draco took the one opposite. Crookshanks leapt onto his lap immediately, and he stroked his ear idly as Hermione explained everything.

She told him the entire story, from leaving Remus’s office, to the fight with the two death eaters, the explosion, Remus’s untimely transformation, the skirmish with the Sectumsempra spell and finding the Weasleys. She told him how she’d gone after Remus after he ran off and spent the night next to him. (She missed out some of the more private details, leaving such to Draco’s imagination.) She then explained how they’d walked to the Lovegood residence and found half of their friends there, and how they’d left as Remus’s wound slowly worsened.

‘And it was only in the morning, when Remus pointed it out, that I realised just how odd the whole affair was,’ Hermione said. 

Draco looked uncomfortable.

‘Uh, what was odd?’ he said, not looking away from Crookshanks.

She studied him for a moment before continuing. ‘They were powerful enough wizards to take down the Burrow – it was very well defended – but they didn’t seriously injure anyone. The worst was Percy, and he was just badly stunned.’

Draco wet his lips. ‘They would have been preparing. You can take down any magical reinforcement with enough time and manpower. There would have been a lot of them, slowly and precisely removing their defences over weeks. Maybe months. They should have had a Fidelius charm protecting the place – it’s the only way.’

‘They didn’t even think they were being targeted,’ Hermione sighed. ‘Besides, that charm isn’t just something you give any old place. They take ages to do, and only very skilled wizards and witches can do them.’

‘They knew Potter would be at the Burrow on those two days,’ he said slowly. ‘They’re getting that information somehow.’

‘Maybe intercepting owls?’ Hermione offered.

Draco nodded, though looked uncertain. ‘Spying, possibly. Eavesdropping. Probably more likely. Or…’ he pulled a face.

‘Or?’

‘Someone told them,’ he said quietly.

She blinked at him. ‘Who?’

He shook his head. 

She sighed. ‘So they were preparing for this battle in advance. So why was it such a failure on their part?’

Draco bit his lip.

She stared at him. ‘Draco, why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?’

He looked practically nauseous. He was grimacing, running a hand through his hair, and his left leg was bobbing up and down nervously.

‘They… they want you all alive,’ he said finally.

She looked at him.

‘What?’

He took a deep breath, and finally looked at her. 

‘Do you remember why I was disowned by my father?’ he asked.

She was at a loss as to what this had to do with anything. ‘Well, yes,’ she said, shrugging. ‘He had… plans, or something, and you didn’t agree with them, so he kicked you out after you kept refusing to do whatever his plan was. And I recall you not able to tell me what those plans were.’

He looked very solemn. ‘He… he was recruiting me into the death eaters.’

She nodded wordlessly. She had guessed as much, though she anticipated there was a lot more to this story. Draco took a deep breath and begun.

‘For years, he was preparing me. And last year it all finally kicked off. For a recruit, I had a very important role. He said he wanted me to prove myself to his colleagues, to the others, and I’d immediately rank very high as soon as I was let in – but I think he just wanted a load of glory for himself, the piece of shit,’ he spat. 

‘I was responsible for luring Potter out of Hogwarts, so he could be taken by them. They didn’t care how I did it. They suggested I befriend him – fat fucking chance – or anger him enough so he’d follow me out of the premises… whatever. When I was first considering it, I was planning on doing it while at Hogsmeade,’ he said quietly. He looked horribly ashamed. 

‘I was told not to kill him. They need him alive for a ritual to bring the Dark Lord back for good,’ he said.

‘Do you know about the ritual?’ she whispered.

He chewed his lip. ‘Not much. I know it needs very specific things to work. Potter’s blood is one. It needs to be fresh. And then he’d be killed.’

Hermione swallowed. She suddenly felt quite ill.

‘I thought about it. A lot. I talked to Snape about it when I had my doubts. He’s… with them, but not properly. He’s a double agent. I’m sure your boyfriend has told you all about it.’

Hermione decided to ignore his referral to Remus and nodded.

‘He… he had to be careful. He didn’t want me to do it, obviously, but he had to keep his cover. He was glad I decided not to do it. He ranks highly enough in their group to know about my task, so I think he’d have stopped me somehow if I ever got close to doing it. He taught me the Sectumsempra spell for self-defence in case I’m now a target for the death eaters too. I probably am.’

‘Why…’ Hermione’s voice trailed away. She couldn’t bring herself to ask a burning question in her mind.

Draco figured out what she was going to say anyway – and wasn’t all that pleased. ‘Why didn’t I do it?’ he spat.

She nodded slowly, a little frightened.

‘Because… because I… it’s not in me. To do that to Potter. To anyone. I couldn’t be responsible for killing somebody. I thought I was capable of it, but when I saw him that first day of Hogwarts I couldn’t fucking do it. I’m not my dad.’

Hermione tried to smile at him reassuringly, though she didn’t feel much like smiling right now. ‘And so you told your dad you weren’t going to do it?’

He nodded. ‘And he kept arguing, kept telling me I had to. He threatened me, manipulated me… when he sent me all my stuff, I knew that was when he’d given up on me. He would’ve made other plans immediately – probably even before.’

‘So around that time they would have started preparation for the attack on the Burrow.’

Draco sighed and nodded. 

‘They were probably hoping they’d be able to lure him out by himself or flush him out of the building and pull him out of the wreckage. They couldn’t have killed him. They’re not even allowed to use serious spells in case it’s powerful enough to accidentally finish him off. That’s partly why they weren’t very aggressive with everyone else, either. In case he got caught in the crossfire.’

‘Only partly why?’ Hermione asked. She almost didn’t want to know.

Draco looked very uneasy. ‘They… Hermione, these people are fucking sick. They’re pissed at Potter. They think taking his blood and then finishing him off is too good for him. They want to torture him. But not just physically. They want to…’ he took a deep breath.

‘What?’

‘They want all of you. His friends. Those closest to him. The Weasleys, you, his godfather. They want to wheel you all out and do… really fucked up shit to all of you. In front of him. And then they’ll kill him.’

Hermione stared at him. Her mouth fell open. She felt like she wanted throw up.

‘That’s why they didn’t kill you, or even do much to hurt you. They’re saving you for later,’ he said, his voice dripping with venom.

‘Why… why didn’t they just take us last night? When they had the chance?’ Hermione couldn’t believe she was asking that question, but she was.

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think they expected Lupin to turn up like that. Bad fucking timing on their part, really, on the full moon. Idiots.’

‘Remus?’

He nodded. ‘Most of the death eaters are purebloods, or share the same typical mentality. If you think ordinary people are scared of werewolves, you’ve got no idea how fucking terrified they are. They’d rather die than have their nice blood poisoned with lycanthropy, and live like that their whole lives. There are a few werewolves in their group, but they stay pretty separate, mostly doing the dirty work the others think they’re too good for. They’re trying to build alliances with werewolf packs, because it’s them they’re most afraid of having against them in the war. You even said how impervious Lupin was to normal magic while he was changed. They pose a real threat to whoever they decide to fight against.’

‘So if Remus hadn’t been there to scare them off…’

‘They’d probably have tried to take you all. Or some of you. But they’d have taken one look at Lupin and fucking scarpered. Especially with his rep, being so close to Dumbledore and Potter and all that.’

Hermione nodded, but she was still feeling very queasy. Also, her temper was beginning to rise.

‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ she said, unable to completely disguise her anger. ‘If I knew we were being targeted like this… that there were these plans for us… we could have died, Draco! If Remus hadn’t turned up yesterday, and if it hadn’t been a full moon…’ she let her face fall in her hands.

‘It’s not that simple, Hermione,’ he said calmly.

‘Not that simple? How is it not that simple?’

‘I didn’t know how much I could trust you. Until today. I know you keep things from me because you don’t trust me. But by telling me about the Burrow, I know you trust me.’

She stared at him in utter disbelief.

‘Well, not anymore, Draco,’ she spat. ‘My life was in danger! And you didn’t trust me enough to let me know?’

‘It’s complicated, alright?’ he snapped.

‘I really don’t see how it is.’

‘Do you know what they’d do to me? If they found out I was officially on your side? Staying out of it is one thing. Joining the other side is the ultimate betrayal.’

‘So you were just concerned for yourself?’ 

‘Wouldn’t you?’ he said, his voice rising. 

‘No. I’d tell you if I thought you were maybe going to get kidnapped and tortured soon, Draco. Because I’m just that sort of person.’

He stood suddenly. ‘I don’t think you can really understand.’

‘Try me.’

He scowled. ‘I wasn’t raised, I was trained. I was brainwashed. To think a certain way, act a certain way. He drove out my empathy, my conscience, any glimpse of goodness. I was told to obey orders, and look after myself. That’s all I knew.’

She looked at him.

‘Do you know how difficult it is to escape that? It’s in you. It’s a part of you. And it fucking broke me. I was trained to be able to kill and if it weren’t for…’ his lips pursed, and he stared at the ground. ‘I was so close to becoming the person he wanted me to be. And because I haven’t, I’m nothing. And it’s not something solved with tutoring and sleeping draughts and talking about your feelings,’ he snarled.

She examined him for a moment. ‘If it weren’t for what?’

‘What?’

‘You said you were trained to kill, and if it weren’t for something…’

He stared at his feet.

‘Draco.’

He shook his head.

‘Draco, tell me.’

She watched him as he flopped back onto his chair, breathing deeply and slowly. His eyes were beginning to water. She’d never seen him quite like this.

‘I don’t think I could ever kill anyone,’ he said slowly. ‘But I think… I think I could have lived with it, if I hadn't strayed from the path set out for me. But…’

‘Go on,’ she said reassuringly.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. ‘The fact that it’s Potter.’

Hermione blinked at him. ‘Huh? You mean Harry in particular?

He nodded.

Hermione was confused to say the least.

‘What? You hate him.’

He didn’t react. 

‘You don’t hate him?’ Hermione said, trying to read his expression.

He shrugged. ‘I do, yeah.’

‘Draco, just spit it out.’

‘Never mind.’ 

‘Draco…’

‘Just – never mind, alright? Forget I said anything.’ And with that he turned and left the room.


	21. The Half-Blood Prince

Before Hermione had the time to call him back he’d disappeared from the dungeon, saying he was tired and felt ill and was going to sleep for a while. She imagined that he’d locked himself in his dormitory, where she definitely wouldn’t be able to get to him.

Hermione had sat in the dungeon silently for a long time. She stared down at the book she’d tossed aside on the table. Its pages were open on the Sectumsempra spell. She looked at it for a moment, and then decided it didn’t need to return to its drawer just this second. She tucked it in her satchel, removed the muffling charms from the room, and hushed her cat out of the door as she left.

Crookshanks leapt out of a nearby window when she left the dungeons, probably off to explore the grounds. It was only midday, but the day had already been more exhausting and confusing and emotional than she could remember.

She trailed aimlessly along the corridors. She debated writing to Harry, but if the death eaters were intercepting letters, she wasn’t sure what she could do anymore.

She visited Remus, but he was asleep when she found him. He looked so peaceful. She wouldn’t dare wake him, despite everything she needed to say. His shirt was still unbuttoned and his new scar sat across his chest. She stared at it for a while. He already had so many. He didn’t deserve this.

♦ ♦ ♦

She’d gone to bed shortly after seeing Remus and she’d fallen asleep immediately, and managed to sleep until the following morning. She’d had no idea how exhausted she was, and how sleep deprived she’d been. 

After showering and changing she ate by herself in the Great Hall. There was no sign of Draco – or Remus, for that matter. She went to visit him in the infirmary but he wasn’t there. She guessed he must be back in his rooms.

She was stood outside his door for much longer than usual, but she knew he was in there – she could hear all kinds of commotion. Eventually he opened the door and, before even greeting her, thrust a bit of parchment towards her.

‘What’s this?’

‘The passcode to my rooms. You ought to learn it.’

She nodded and eyed him for a moment. He was wearing old, loose clothes and, while he looked fairly healthy, he looked utterly furious.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

He took a while to answer. ‘I spoke to Sirius earlier. I’m just having trouble calming down.’

‘What happened? Did he say something?’

He sighed and grimaced. ‘Yes. Though it’s more a matter of what he did.’

‘What did he do?’ 

‘When he summoned me the other day he was fully aware I would be transforming in a matter of minutes,’ he said flatly. He flopped onto his chair, scowling. ‘Even I forgot completely after he called.’

Hermione bit her lip. ‘But… they needed you. We all did. If you hadn’t turned up…’

‘Yes, yes, I know. And he couldn’t control the timing of everything any more than I could. But it was the fact he knew I’d be transforming shortly after I got there. A big bad wolf to scare them all off.’ He crossed his chest. ‘He had no regard for how I’d feel about being used as a weapon.’

‘But even if it hadn’t been a full moon, he’d have still summoned you,’ she insisted. ‘It was just bad timing, Remus. I don’t think it’s like he manipulated you. But you can’t deny, as terrible as it was for you that you had to transform while all that was happening… you did save a lot of lives.’

He shook his head and exhaled deeply. ‘That’s what he said.’ He looked up and gazed at her for a moment. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe… maybe I overreacted.’

‘It’s completely understandable, Remus,’ she said softly, smiling as reassuringly as she could.

He nodded. ‘Do you mind if I call him and apologise?’ he asked, glancing at the fireplace.

‘Not at all.’

He smiled warmly at her and stood. She headed to the kettle to make him some tea – he looked like he could use some.

The kitchen area was on the other side of the room to the hearth and Hermione couldn’t see Sirius’s face emerge from the flames, but she heard his voice. She listened as she quietly moved around the kitchen.

‘Oh, hello Moony. I see you’ve stopped swearing.’

Remus sighed. ‘I just wanted to apologise for earlier, Sirius. I talked to Hermione and realised I might have overreacted.’

She heard Sirius laugh. ‘Of course. Don’t worry about it, mate. Kiss your girlfriend thanks from me when you see her.’

Hermione froze. She couldn’t bring herself to look up.

She heard him fall silent for a moment. 

‘Well, uh, actually, she’s still here, Sirius,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh – shit-’

‘Get out of the fireplace, Sirius.’

‘I’m sorry, mate-’

‘Get out, Sirius.’

She heard the fireplace heave and crackle, and then settle. She managed to look at Remus, who looked incredibly sheepish.

She blinked at him.

‘Uh, what did he mean?’ Hermione asked, her heart beginning to pound. She felt sick with nerves.

Remus stared at her and turned his gaze to the ground, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. 

‘Well, uh, you know Sirius, he’s an absolute… joker. Always joking around, Sirius.’

She didn’t say anything.

‘And he likes to mess around and rile people up, you know…’

‘But – but why did he call me that?’ she asked quietly.

He shook his head and shrugged and stared around the room. A horrible silence settled in the air.

‘Okay, uh, does he… do that often?’

Remus didn’t react and instead ran his hands through his hair.

‘Remus?’

He chewed on his lip for a few seconds. ‘Alright. I might as well tell you. Sit down.’

Hermione was practically dizzy with nervousness. She was glad to rest as she sat in her chair, curling up and gripping her teacup rather tightly, gazing into its contents so she didn’t have to look at the man opposite.

She heard him clear his throat. ‘So, uh, the odd transformation yesterday morning. That was one of the reasons I wanted to talk to him, for his insight. And we discussed factors that may have had an effect. He suggested the amount of spells that hit me, or the fact I was exhausted and stressed, but those should have made the transformation worse – not better.’

She nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

‘And… well, I told him about you, Hermione. And he thinks you… might have something to do with it. And I don’t disagree.’

‘Me?’ she said, blinking at him.

He nodded, looking embarrassed. ‘I don’t understand it. We may be completely wrong, in fact.’

‘But how could I have an effect?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

He shifted in his chair. ‘Well, um, the night you spent in my office a few months ago… I don’t know if it’s a coincidence, but that was a relatively smooth transformation. And I didn’t feel too bad afterwards, either. The months we, uh, weren’t in very close contact…’ he swallowed before continuing. ‘They were particularly bad transformations for me.’

She hummed, not sure how to respond.

‘And yesterday’s transformation wasn’t just smooth – it was seamless. It didn’t wake either of us, Hermione. And I’ve never felt so good after a transformation before.’

‘Has this ever happened before?’ she asked, stammering a little.

He shook his head. ‘Never.’

She didn’t reply.

He sighed. ‘And… and we got talking about other things that don’t make sense. How, in your third year, I recognised your howl as a werewolf’s, not a human mimicking one. I should have known the difference, but I didn’t. And how those spells didn’t affect me nearly as much as they should have done the other night.’

‘I don’t understand how any of this has anything to do with me,’ she said, rubbing her temples. ‘I just… have you ever heard of anything like this? On your travels abroad, maybe?’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me to explain it, Hermione. I don’t have a clue myself. Besides, it may all just be a coincidence. There’s no need to jump to conclusions.’

Hermione thought for a moment, and pushed down her nerves to say what was on her mind.

‘Well,’ she said cautiously, ‘there’s a way we can find out whether it’s a coincidence or not.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘We test it,’ she said, trying to sound as clinical and neutral as possible. ‘We… do what we did the other night on the next full moon and… see if it happens again.’

He reddened. 

‘I, uh – well, only if you’re okay with that, Hermione.’

‘Of course I am.’

He nodded. She’d seen him look uncomfortable many times, but never quite so much as this.

‘I have some things to tell you,’ she said, quickly shifting the subject. 

He nodded, and Hermione cleared her throat and repeated everything Draco had told her, with the exception of whatever he was rambling about towards the end of the conversation. By the end, Remus looked exactly how she felt.

‘He really thinks if I hadn’t been there, then…’ 

Hermione nodded gravely. ‘He thinks a lot of lives would have been taken that day.’

Remus looked mildly horrified, but seemed to be trying to remain as calm as possible. ‘I didn’t know I struck so much terror in the hearts of death eaters,’ he joked.

‘Apparently so.’

He nodded, sighing and rubbing his temples. ‘Thank you for telling me all this, Hermione. I’ll inform Dumbledore as soon as I can.’ He shut his eyes. ‘This is all getting too real.’

Hermione knew exactly how he felt. According to Draco she and her closest friends were all primary targets, the prey of the most dangerous predators in the wizarding world. She wasn’t safe in her home anymore. How safe were her family? She didn’t want to dwell for a second on that matter; it made her stomach turn to think her parents would get caught up in this chaos. 

And then there was Harry, the most endangered of them all. But in the eyes of their enemies he was a means to an end, not a person. A sacrifice to revive the most evil man on the face of the earth. She felt positively ill.

And then there were the loose ends. 

Hermione spent the rest of the day in her professor’s office, and as she laid awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but feel as though she had fallen down some kind of rabbit hole. Admittedly she’d felt a bit like this ever since she discovered she was a witch – but this was different. It was more intense. Things were happening that defied logic and she was questioning everything she knew. And the scariest thing of all was that she had no idea who she could trust in all of this. 

Hermione reached for her wand sat on her bedside table and flicked it, and the torches lining the walls came alive, the room filling with a comfortable light. She sat up in bed and plucked the old potions textbook from her personal library. She’d not had a good chance to look through it.

It was very old and tattered and filled with what appeared to be corrections to the original instructions for brewing potions. The original instructions, in fact, were almost entirely illegible. After flicking through the pages she found a few more spells, alongside the Sectumsempra curse – Langlock, Muffliato and Levicorpus. Simply reading the words filled her with a strange suspicion and an almost intrinsic distrust. They simply looked like dark magic – she already knew the first spell was a spell as dark as the unforgivable curses.

She noted down as much as she could in a journal Harry had given her for her birthday, thumbing each page and reading every line as closely and meticulously as she could. She had read into the early hours of the morning when she discovered a scrawl on the back cover of the book; ‘This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.’

This was curious. And, curiouser and curiouser, she was almost certain that the handwriting belonged to Severus Snape. But why the Half-Blood Prince?

Did Snape invent these spells, or discover them somehow? He taught Draco Sectumsempra and knew the incantation to reverse the spell by heart. And so little people know about the spell – yet the death eaters at the Burrow did.

‘Snape’s supposed to be working with them,’ she muttered. Crookshanks, at the end of her bed, stared at her intently, as though he understood perfectly.

She looked at him back. ‘Would he teach them the spell?’ she asked him softly. The cat just continued to stare.

She sighed. ‘Or they learnt it from him? But he’d know they’d use it against us, to hurt us.’

Crookshanks purred.

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed, leaning back into her pillow. 

And then there was what Draco had said – somebody had told them about Harry’s plans at the Burrow, and the Burrow’s location. 

She bit her tongue. She knew she should trust Snape.

But he was working with the death eaters. Could he have been amongst the madness on Boxing Day, one of the masked men she fought? They knew the spell he alone seemed to have knowledge of – and he had the information that would have led them to the Burrow that night with ease. So many of the loose ends from that night could be tied with one simple knot – Snape was not what he seemed.

But that was ridiculous – wasn’t it? 

She gazed out of the window, the room slowly filling with dim light as the hours stretched into dawn. She yawned, the exhaustion she’d built up the last few nights finally hitting her hard. She turned her back to the window and pulled the covers over her head, shutting her eyes tightly – though she couldn’t fall asleep. She was too busy thinking. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Remus about this – but she didn’t want to rouse his temper by accusing Snape. He’d never trust her opinion over Dumbledore’s.

Eventually her mind relaxed and she slipped into a gentle slumber, dreaming dreams she’d forget by the time she awoke the next morning.

♦ ♦ ♦

The first thing she did in the morning was replace the Half-Blood Prince’s book in Snape’s drawer. It seemed to close and lock automatically without any kind of passcode, and when she tried to open it again, it remained stubbornly shut. She only hoped it wasn’t obvious that she’d been snooping around his office.

As she went about the dungeon on her daily chores, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly lonely. Draco had kept his distance. She’d grown so used to his regular company that she didn’t like how it felt to not be on good terms with him. 

Before she’d left Remus’s offices the day before, he’d promised that she could talk to Harry via the fireplace. Once she’d finished in the dungeon by midday, she went to his office once again, passing Peeves on the way there. He stuck out his tongue at her as she walked past, though she just ignored him.

She let herself in using the passcode he’d given her – it was a strange thing, simply walking into his rooms like this – and saw him sat at his desk with his head in his hands. When he heard her enter he looked up and smiled warmly.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He nodded, and cleared his throat. ‘Uh, Harry’s finally calmed down. You can talk to him now.’

She nodded and watched him as he got up and bent over the fireplace. He waited there for a while, and then she heard the familiar commotion of flames bursting to life and sparks flying. He looked up and nodded at her.

When she bent down, she saw Harry’s face composed of fire. Through all the flames she couldn’t quite make out his features very clearly, but she could tell he was tired, and angry, and incredibly worried.

‘Hi, Harry,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’

‘I’m glad you’re okay, too,’ he said quietly. ‘I just want to get out of here.’

‘Where are the Weasleys?’

‘Still where we left them,’ he said. ‘I wanted Ron and Ginny to come with me but Molly wasn’t having any of it.’

She nodded. ‘She was like that before I left.’

‘I just can’t…’ he grimaced, shaking his head. ‘I can’t wrap my head around everything.’

‘I know the feeling,’ she said, thinking about Snape and the potions textbook. ‘We have so much to talk about.’

Remus, who had since returned to his desk, eyed her from across the room nervously.

Harry bit his lip. ‘Listen, as safe as this network is… I dunno, Sirius and Lupin are being prissy about it…’

She heard Remus huff.

‘We can’t talk about anything too important here.’

‘But – but I have so much to tell you. It can’t wait another week.’

‘Listen, we’ll meet before then. Sirius and Professor Lupin have worked it out, talk to him. I’ll see you soon.’

Before she could argue, Harry’s face had disappeared.

She stood up and looked at Remus. ‘What was that about? Are we meeting them?’

‘Well, it was initially just going to be me meeting them,’ Remus said, pursing his lips. ‘Though now Harry’s told you that I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to convince you to stay here – where it’s safe.’

She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

He sighed. ‘Of course not. How silly of me.’ 

‘So when are we going? And where?’

‘Well, Hagrid went to inform Dumbledore about what happened. He’s had to wrap up all he was doing and come back. He’ll be at Grimmauld tomorrow, as will Professor Snape.’

Hermione felt her stomach turn slightly. Snape was going to be there?

‘Actually, the entire Order is trying to arrive, but not everyone can make it. Still, the Weasleys are being safely transported there as we speak. Sirius has offered them all a place at Grimmauld until they find a new place to live.’

‘So we’re going tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘We’re opening the Floo Network. But it’s illegal, so it’ll only be up for a very short time, just long enough to get us there.’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Be here at eight tomorrow. Sharp.’


	22. Grimmauld Place

Remus looked exhausted. He truly wasn’t a morning person. It was ten minutes to eight, and he was stood dishevelled and untidy, preparing the fireplace to be suitable for Floo transport. Still, Hermione thought, he did look incredibly attractive nonetheless.

‘Right. There. You know the drill,’ he said, waving his hand toward the hearth. ‘There’s the powder… 12 Grimmauld Place… after you, my dear.’

She tried to conceal her smile as she went to stand in the fireplace. She uttered the Black address as clearly and concisely as possible – she’d been nervous about travelling by the Floo Network ever since she was told about Harry’s dismal attempt in the second year – and, after a rather uncomfortable experience, she stumbled out of the green flames in a completely different room.

She quickly leapt out of the way as she heard Remus stagger out of the hearth behind her. As soon as he’d gathered himself he turned and started to perform some kind of chain of spells on the fireplace. Hermione guessed he was inactivating the network.

‘Hey, where’d you get the Floo powder?’ she asked, as he finished and brushed the dust and ash off his robes.

He grinned mischievously. ‘I happen to know the whereabouts of Severus’s very well-kept stock.’

She laughed and shook her head, staring around the room. They had entered the kitchen, a large cavernous room, and presently empty – save for Kreacher, who she supposed was lurking in his small room nearby. 

It wasn’t long before they heard voices. They followed them up the stairs to the ground floor, and before Hermione had time to react, Ginny had appeared and thrown her arms around her.

‘Ginny?’

‘Hermione, you’re here!’ she cried, beaming at her friend. 

‘You’re here? I thought you were still at Luna’s.’

‘Everyone’s here now. We couldn’t come with Harry, so we had to wait until we could all come together. Well, Percy is at the Ministry again, and Bill and Fleur and Charlie have all left on Order business, mum isn’t very happy…’ She paused to gaze at Remus, who was scanning the hallway behind her. ‘Hi, Professor.’

‘Oh. Hello, Ginny.’

‘Is everything… okay?’ she asked, her eyes darting to his chest. Remus swallowed and nodded, looking uncomfortable.

‘Thanks to Hermione, yes.’

‘Good,’ Ginny breathed, eyeing Hermione and winking at her as soon as Remus looked away. Hermione blushed and rolled her eyes.

‘Where is everybody?’

‘Upstairs in the drawing room, waiting for you.’

He nodded and headed away to the first floor, leaving the two girls behind.

‘We’re not allowed in,’ Ginny muttered.

‘Not even Harry?’

She shook her head solemnly. ‘Mum is dead set on keeping us as out of it as possible. I don’t think she realises…’

‘That Harry’s the one that’s the most caught up in all this mess.’

Ginny nodded. ‘They’re upstairs. Come on.’

Hermione followed Ginny up to the second floor, where she found Harry and Ron sat on their respective beds, talking quietly. They both started to their feet and wrapped their arms around Hermione when she entered, and Hermione breathed in the wonderfully familiar smell of their clothes, suddenly feeling a lot more relieved.

‘So how is every-’

‘Hermione, tell us everything,’ Harry said abruptly.

‘What?’

‘You said you have a lot to tell us. I’ve been driving myself mad wondering what ever since.’

After casting a quick muffling charm, Hermione sat down on the end of Harry’s bed and explained everything Draco had told her, just like she’d told Remus. Ginny looked positively ill. Ron had paled and was staring at the floor, and Harry’s temper was rising.

‘And yet they’re keeping us out of this! We’re old enough, and we’ve been through more than half of them have – and they think we shouldn’t be involved!’

‘Harry, calm down,’ Ginny said.

‘How am I supposed to calm down?’ Harry snapped. 

‘Well, you might want to before I tell you all about Professor Snape,’ Hermione said quietly. Harry gazed at her, his eyes wide.

‘What about him?’

She took a deep breath and told her friends about the Sectumsempra spell, the Half-Blood Prince’s book, and her suspicions surrounding the potions master and where his loyalties really lie.

Ron’s temper was rising now, too. ‘He’s working for them? He’s the reason I don’t have a home now?’

‘I don’t know for sure, but…’

‘Oh I don’t know, Hermione, how often are you wrong about something?’ Harry said, crossing his arms. 

‘And that greasy git is just downstairs right now with Dumbledore and the lot, and we’re stuck in here,’ Ron grumbled. ‘Traitor, death eater, and he’s allowed to sit at the table.’

‘I just don’t know what to think anymore. There’s so much evidence stacked against him… but Remus is so sure we can trust him…’ 

Harry and Ron blinked at her. 

‘What is it with you and Lupin?’ Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. 

‘And since when do you take his opinion for gospel?’ Ron added.

Hermione bit her lip. ‘I just… I don’t know. I mean, we get on well, that’s all, and he’s one of the few sensible people I know, really, and he’s smart and perceptive and…’ Hermione felt her cheeks flame. ‘I just trust his opinion, okay?’

They stared at her. Harry glanced at Ginny, who was staring at her feet nonchalantly.

‘Okay, okay,’ Ron said finally. ‘Sorry, Hermione, we didn’t realise you’re in love with him.’

‘I am not in love with him!’ she snapped. 

Ron jumped a little at her outburst. ‘I was, uh, joking.’

She blinked, her mouth dry. She stared at the floor. ‘Yes. I know. Obviously.’

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. They all looked up, and watched it open. 

Remus popped his head round, his gaze sweeping the room. ‘I – uh – oh, hello, you two. Listen, I’ve managed to get you all a seat in the drawing room…’

‘What? Really?’ Harry said, grinning and leaping to his feet. ‘Brilliant! How come?’

‘Mum was dead against it. No way you convinced her,’ Ron said.

Remus chuckled. ‘She’s not happy, no. But I told them what you told me, Hermione,’ he said, turning his gaze to her and smiling a little. She felt an odd, exciting warmth flood her chest. ‘And Dumbledore is insisting that you all belong. We all agree. Your mother, a little reluctantly.’ He grinned at Ron and Ginny.

Remus barely had time to move out of the way before Harry had charged past and stormed downstairs. He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who grinned.

‘Thank you for getting us in.’

‘Well, I know you wanted to be there. And it’s only right you are.’

Ron looked at the two of them, his eyes darting back and forth. ‘Uh, we should go, then.’

Remus blinked and cleared his throat. ‘Right, yes. Don’t want to keep them waiting.’

The drawing room was filled with people, some Hermione knew, some she didn’t. Dumbledore sat at the very end of the table and he smiled at her as she entered the room, his eyes twinkling. Sirius sat at his side, opposite a very sinister-looking Snape, who was scowling in silence. Hermione felt incredibly nervous. What if he somehow knew about her suspicions and accusations? Snape seemed to know everything.

The twins, Molly and Arthur sat there too, all greeting Hermione warmly. The other members of the Order she vaguely recognised, though she couldn’t pin names to faces. McGonagall stood in the corner of the room, watching Hermione with concern. Remus did not return to his seat; he let Harry sit in his place, next to his godfather, and instead remained standing at Hermione’s side.

‘As we were saying,’ Dumbledore said, ‘it appears that the numbers of Lord Voldemort’s followers are growing. Severus believes that they are growing impatient. We believe that the attack on the Burrow was an act of recklessness on their part – it was unplanned, which is why Severus simply could not have warned us about it. He was not aware of the presence of the death eaters of the Burrow – it appears a small group of them took it upon themselves to make the attack, despite it not being an official order. Luckily, their disorder allowed the safe escape of all the victims that day. There were no casualties.’

‘Apart from our house,’ Fred muttered to his brother. George raised his eyebrows.

‘Their impatience was advantageous that day. However, we may not be so fortunate the next time. We have almost finished taking precautions around Hogwarts.’

Hermione noticed many of the people in the room looked incredibly uncomfortable, particularly Molly. She must have been horrified that her children were present to hear all of this.

‘It should also be known that many lives could have potentially been taken day that for it not for Remus Lupin,’ Dumbledore said, his gaze turning to Remus. Hermione glanced at the man beside her, who had reddened and was staring at his feet.

‘Your presence, Remus, perhaps saved everyone that day,’ Dumbledore continued. ‘Which confirms our suspicions – the death eaters are as terrified of werewolves as we thought. In fact, more so. I imagine the alliance of werewolf packs will determine when and whether they shall strike – they are powerful enemies to whomever they decide to fight.’

‘We’ve been over this,’ Sirius said, apparently impatient. ‘Remus spent bloody years abroad trying to get the bastards on our side. They just want to stay out of it. Most of them resent us for excluding them for the community. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up on Voldemort’s side.’

‘We can’t think like that, Sirius,’ Remus said calmly.

‘Oh, yeah? How did they treat you while you were out there, hmm? What about that nasty little bite on your leg, mate?’

‘Oh, be quiet, Sirius,’ Remus muttered.

‘We can’t cart him out every time we need to scare off a bunch of death eaters, you know,’ Sirius said. ‘They won’t be stupid enough to attack us on a full moon again, anyway.’

Hermione watched quietly as the tension in the room began to rise and everybody started to talk over one other, clambering to be heard, the noise in the room growing louder and louder. Hermione’s eyes met Remus’s, and he shook his head. He looked as though he’d had to sit through this sort of thing a million times before.

‘We believe it may be a good idea for Remus to resume his previous mission,’ Dumbledore said amongst the commotion. Everybody stopped talking and turned to look at Remus, who was staring at Dumbledore in shock.

‘Resume – my – what? You mean, go back to Europe?’

‘It appears that the werewolves would be an incredibly valuable group of allies – even more so than we initially believed.’

Remus’s mouth opened and closed, but no words left his lips. 

Hermione swallowed a lump that had appeared in her throat. She didn’t realise how much she didn’t want Remus to leave. But even the possibility of it made her feel horrible.

‘When?’ Sirius said, gazing at his friend sadly.

‘Soon. Depending on contingencies, of course,’ Dumbledore said.

Remus didn’t respond. 

‘Of course, he is needed at Hogwarts for now. I will inform you, Remus, when I believe it is an appropriate time for you to leave.’

Remus nodded.

The conversation evolved; Hermione listened as each member of the Order reported their individual situations – with the exception of Snape, who did not speak – and as Harry expressed his anger and frustration with not being able to fight. Sirius and Dumbledore tried to explain to him, over and over, that his safety was central to the mission – but Harry was stubborn when he wanted to be.

Hermione repeatedly glanced at Remus, who had remained eerily silent. Clearly his potential excursion to Europe was playing on his mind. It was playing on Hermione’s, too. She wondered in what universe she would be able to go with him.

After about an hour or so, Dumbledore marked the ending of the meeting and most of the visitors got ready to leave.

As Hermione exited the room into the hallway, McGonagall joined her side and they talked for a while, mostly about the events at the Burrow and their mutual concerns. The professor left when Dumbledore swept out of the room.

She assumed everybody had finally left Grimmauld Place and turned to talk to Remus – who was still silent – when a deep voice startled her from behind.

‘Granger,’ Snape drawled. Hermione leapt a little and turned to face him, Remus doing the same.

‘Oh – hello, Professor,’ Hermione said, desperately trying to hide how nervous she was. Remus seemed to notice, as he was eyeing her closely.

Snape studied her for a second with a horribly analytic expression, his eyes narrowed, his lips thin. Her heart began to thud. Did he somehow overhear her conversation upstairs about him? Did he somehow know that she’d been snooping around in his office, breaking into his desk, rummaging through his personal belongings? Given past experience, she wouldn’t put any of it behind him.

‘I trust my classroom is not currently in ruins?’ he said finally.

‘Uh – no, I’m trying to keep everything how you left it, Professor.’

Snape nodded curtly. ‘And you’ve remembered to replenish the stock?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve cleaned every day?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you brewed the werewolf’s potion?’ 

Remus cocked an eyebrow. ‘Yes, Severus,’ he answered, on Hermione’s behalf.

‘And it worked?’

‘Like a charm,’ he said.

‘Hm.’

And without another word, Snape twisted on his heel and fled down the steps, and disappeared entirely from sight only a few seconds later.

‘God, that man’s intense,’ Remus said laughingly. 

‘Yeah.’

He blinked at her. ‘Are you alright?’

She nodded.

‘It’s just that, uh…’ he bit his lip. ‘I don’t like to say this sort of thing – people tend to find it, uh, creepy – but I heard your heart rate quicken just now. I’d almost say you were rather scared.’

‘Well, uh, Snape is a scary person,’ Hermione said dismissively. God, how she wanted to tell him about her suspicions. But he’d only get angry at her.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Since when have you been scared of him?’

She shrugged. 

‘Are you aware of that sort of thing… all the time?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘What?’ 

‘The… superhuman hearing, thing.’

‘Oh.’ Remus’s eyes fell to his feet. ‘Well, I usually try to ignore it. But it’s not something you turn off and on like a tap. I’ve grown up with it, though. For me, it’s normality.’

‘So you’re always acutely aware of everybody’s physical state?’

He smirked. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

She felt slightly uneasy. Did he know everything about her? When she was lying, for instance? And, even worse – how she felt about him?

He apparently knew she was uncomfortable. ‘I did say people often find it creepy.’

‘It’s not creepy,’ she said quickly. ‘Just… odd. Impressive, though.’

He hummed, though didn’t sound overly convinced. They were purposelessly strolling about Grimmauld Place as they spoke, all the way up to the third floor. This floor was filled with bedrooms, and was presumably where the Weasleys would be staying for the time being.

‘I’ve been, um, meaning to ask you something,’ Remus said slowly.

Hermione looked at him.

Before Remus continued, he ducked his head round a nearby bedroom and motioned that they should enter. She ignored the tingling feeling in her stomach as she followed.

It was an empty room, not yet occupied, and was presumably once a guest room judging from its lack of personal possessions. Remus stared around at it for a while before finally speaking.

‘You mentioned that, uh, we should… test…’

He didn’t finish his sentence. 

‘The transformation?’ she offered. He nodded.

‘January’s full moon is on the 25th, which is a Monday.’

Hermione hummed.

‘You know what happened the last time you stayed during term time,’ he said, almost in a whisper. ‘The rumours followed you around for weeks. Even I couldn’t get away from them, and I didn’t have anything to do with it.’

She raised an eyebrow.

He pulled a face. ‘Okay, well, I did, but nobody else knew that,’ he said. ‘My point is, I don’t want you to have to deal with anything like that again.’

‘I coped with it last time.’

He took a deep breath and glanced at the closed door for a second before continuing.

‘Listen, after the event at the Burrow, Dumbledore’s clamping down on security at Hogwarts. Most students – probably not your age, but below – will be escorted to lessons. Most of the grounds will be off bounds to students, and to most of the staff. And I’m afraid, because of your connection to Harry…’ he grimaced. ‘You and all the others will be monitored closely. For your own safety, of course, but…’

‘Seriously?’ she said, matching his hushed tone. ‘So I won’t be able to make one move without it being seen?’

‘Not many of us will,’ he said calmly, though she could sense he was almost as frustrated as she. ‘Which makes your visits… difficult. Particularly the night-time variety.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘So I can’t even come round during the day? On weekends?’

He shook his head. ‘Not nearly as much. It’s a little… unheard of. People would start to ask questions very early on, and if you were caught in my rooms at night…’ 

He was rather flushed by now, and was scratching his scalp audibly.

‘But… if we can find out how to give you painless transformations like that every month… surely they can make an exception? If we explain to somebody that would understand…’

He smirked. ‘Not many people care whether I have a good transformation or not. But…’

‘But what?’

‘It is somewhat unheard of,’ he said. ‘If I could explain to Albus that this could be for the good of my kind – he’s always been supportive – maybe I could convince him.’

‘To do what? Let me stay in your dorm overnight?’

‘No. Even if Dumbledore was okay with it, other people would find out, and they wouldn’t be okay with it.’

‘Then what?’

‘I have an idea,’ he said quietly. ‘But it’ll be… difficult to work out.’

‘What is it?’

Before he could answer, the door opened and Remus jumped in surprise.

‘Oh.’ 

Sirius was stood in the doorway. 

‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked slyly, furrowing his eyebrows.

‘Of course not,’ Remus said, almost in a snarl. ‘What would you be interrupting?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ Sirius shrugged, smirking widely. 

‘What did you want, anyway?’ Remus said sharply.

‘I was looking for you, mate. You ran off. The Floo has to be used in about ten minutes.’

‘Ten minutes?’ Hermione repeated. ‘But I’ve hardly spoken to Harry and Ron and-’

‘Sorry, love. You can go have a final chat now, if you like. Maybe if Moony here would give you five minutes to yourself you could’ve had longer…’

‘What is that supposed to mean, Sirius?’ Remus spat. His temper was visibly rising.

Sirius wasn’t fazed whatsoever. ‘Nothing, mate. Hermione, should say your goodbyes.’

She nodded, her eyes lingering on Remus for a moment, before heading out of the room.

As soon as she stepped outside she didn’t have time to shut it herself – Sirius had flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. She heard a quiet, tinkling sound that she recognised as a muffling charm placed on the door.

She paused. There was another bedroom right next door. If she used the amplification spell…

She shouldn’t eavesdrop on their conversation. She needed to go downstairs and say goodbye to her friends.

Then again, she’d see them in a week. And it’s not like she hadn’t eavesdropped on Sirius and Remus’s conversation before.

Hermione silently scorned her intrinsic nosiness before tiptoeing to the adjacent bedroom. It appeared to be another guest room – similarly empty and rather bare – and, before very quietly closing the door behind her, headed to the wall that was between herself and the other room. She leant her head against it, and muttered her spell under her breath.

Success. She heard their voices rising in volume, loud enough to be heard.

‘Should I be worried? Tell me if I should be worried.’ 

‘Why on earth should you be worried?’ 

‘Why do you think, mate?’ Sirius said. ‘You’re creeping around the house, hiding in the bedroom…’

‘Not creeping, walking. Not hiding, standing in. Shut up, Sirius, for God’s sake.’

‘You slept with her-’

‘Now you’re being stupid. Move out of the way, I need to sort out the network.’

‘We’ve got ten minutes.’

‘Get out the way.’ 

‘No.’

‘What do you want from me? I didn’t sleep with her. She slept near me. And ‘slept’ means sleep. Nothing more.’

Sirius scoffed. ‘Before you said she slept right next to you, not near you. Now you’re lying.’

‘Well, it… it was the dead of winter. Dead of night. She wouldn’t leave. What was I supposed to let her do, freeze?’

‘So you curled up with her all night? Ooh, I bet you hated that, didn’t you?’

‘I’m honestly not telling you anything anymore. I tell you all this because I thought – apparently, rather stupidly – that you wouldn’t get the wrong idea, and you’d help me understand all of this… stuff.’

‘You’re not telling me anything anymore?’ Sirius repeated. ‘So now you can do whatever you like with the poor girl and not kiss and tell? Good for you, mate.’

‘Fuck off, Sirius. You know what I mean. I told you about the transformation because it could change hundreds of lives – my life – if we work out what exactly happened. But you’re just so desperate for bloody gossip…’

‘It’s hardly gossip, mate. It’s a genuine – and fucking legitimate – concern that you want to fuck a girl less than half your age.’

The room fell quiet for a few seconds.

‘Out of the way. Right now.’

‘You gonna deny it?’

‘I’m not dignifying this conversation by partaking in it any longer. See you soon, Sirius.’

Hermione took that as a sign to make a fast exit. She could hear Sirius refusing to let Remus pass as she removed the amplification spell and hastily made her way out of the room and down the stairs.

She reached the first floor out of breath. Harry, Ron and Ginny were in the bedroom again, discussing the Order’s meeting. They all looked up at her, rather surprised, as she stormed into the room.

‘If anyone asks, I’ve been in here the last five minutes,’ she said breathlessly.

They looked her up and down before nodding unquestioningly. 

She joined the other three and reiterated what Remus had told her about the security restrictions on Hogwarts, earning a lot of sighs and exasperated groans. She bit her tongue – they wouldn’t exactly suffer to the extent she would. It was unlikely she’d get to see Remus anymore, apart from in lesson time.

She wasn’t there long before Remus poked his head through the door and told Hermione – rather sternly – they were to leave now. She nodded and hugged her friends farewell before following the man downstairs back to the kitchen.

‘Where’s Sirius?’ she asked, a little cautiously.

‘Removing his head from his arse,’ Remus muttered. 

She decided not to push the subject with him in this mood.

In a few moments they were downstairs, under the ground floor in the kitchen, stood in front of the fireplace. They stepped inside, one by one, and left Grimmauld Place.


	23. The Fireplace

The rest of the Christmas Holiday was relatively uneventful. Hermione eventually stopped trying to track down Draco – he was apparently living in his dormitory in utter solitude – and decided to spend her time wisely instead, each day walking the grounds with Remus and sitting in his office talking for hours on end. These times she loved so dearly would stop as soon as every pupil returned to Hogwarts.

When she woke on the 4th of January, she was filled with a horrible, sickening sense of dread. Everyone was returning today. Lessons were resuming at midday, after everybody had unpacked and settled down again. Her rainy afternoons curled up in Remus’s chair were over.

The tightening security at Hogwarts was noticed by everybody almost instantly. All the students, with the exception of the seventh years (for they were deemed adults, for the most part) were escorted to and from lessons, the Great Hall and their dormitories by staff and prefects. Hermione quickly tired of wrestling a band of first year Gryffindors to their potions lessons against their will. More than once she had to chase them down and forcibly shove them down the dungeon stairs.

And the freedom that seventh years and prefects had was not at all unlimited. They were expected to do what they were told, and not once step out of line. They had been assured there would be nasty consequences should any of them decide to play fast and loose with the rules; McGonagall, while explaining this, had shot Harry, Ron and Hermione a filthy look.

As Hermione expected, the next few weeks were incredibly disappointing. She saw Remus a few times a week during Defence Against the Dark Arts, but their interactions were limited to asking and answering questions.

And, to Hermione’s further disappointment, the four houses had become even more segregated due to the security. Each house was kept separate from one another, more so than ever, even in lessons. She saw Draco every day in the Great Hall, eating at the very end of the Slytherin table on his lonesome, but she couldn’t speak to him. They made eye contact most days. Sometimes he’d smile, or roll his eyes at a Slytherin she knew he hated, or simply pull a face at her. But they never spoke. She missed him dearly.

One advantage of all of this was that she was constantly in her friends’ company. But their conversation was limited, too. They couldn’t discuss the Order, or Snape, or You-Know-Who, for fear of being overheard. And they were horribly aware they were being watched.

On Monday the 18th, however, Hermione was in for a bit of a shock.

During DADA, Remus had been acting slightly oddly all lesson. He seemed distracted. He called off the lesson early, allowing extra time for the seventh years to get to their next lesson. But as she gathered her things to leave, he looked at her pointedly.

She waited until everybody had left before approaching his desk.

‘I have good news,’ he said quietly.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a long story. But I’ve spoken to Dumbledore and I’ve fixed our little problem.’

She grinned. ‘You mean, our little problem on the 25th?’

He nodded. ‘I need to talk to you about it first, however, to make sure you are absolutely okay. Can you visit tonight? After lessons?’

She shook her head sadly. ‘I have to escort the first years to the common room after dinner. Then McGonagall locks the painting every night.’

He groaned. 

‘Can you unlock it?’

She grimaced. ‘I could try, but I’m almost certain McGonagall would fit it with some kind of alarm that would wake the entire castle if I did.’

He snorted. ‘Sounds like something Minerva would do, actually.’

‘Come on, Remus,’ she sighed. ‘I thought you invented the Marauders Map? You and Sirius are always telling stories about your time at Hogwarts that put the Weasley twins to shame.’

He pulled a face. ‘It’s a bit different now. I’m a teacher, for a start.’

‘Lost your touch?’ she asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Hardly.’

‘So how are we going to meet to talk about this?’

He bit his lip.

‘It’s hardly Marauders-worthy, but all I can think of is the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.’

‘You mean, set up a Floo network?’

He shook his head. ‘There’s no way you’d get away with that. But we can talk. But you’d have to be careful.’

She nodded. ‘You ring, and I’ll be there.’

‘Better be late, so everyone’s gone to bed.’

‘How about midnight?’

‘Make it one. To be safe.’

She nodded. 

‘I’ll see you tonight, then,’ he said, winking. She grinned, and left just as the sixth-year Ravenclaws were entering the classroom.

♦ ♦ ♦

There was no point in going to sleep that night if she was just going to wake up in the early hours. Hermione lay in bed, making no effort to shut her eyes and turn off her mind, listening to the snores of her dorm-mates.

When the clock neared dangerously close to one, she removed herself from bed as quietly as possible. She tiptoed down the stairs, drawing her dressing gown around her body tightly, and entered the thankfully empty Gryffindor common room.

It was pitch black. She lit only a couple of torches around the walls, just to see where she was going. The fireplace lay dark and dormant for the time being. She went to sit in front of it, her heart thudding. Why did this feel so wrong? 

Maybe it was because of what she’d overheard at Grimmauld Place.

She hadn’t been able to stop replaying Sirius’s voice over and over in her head – he was so sure that Remus was, well, interested in her. But she couldn’t believe it. Why would he be? 

She wasn’t exactly a stunner. Her hair was eternally frizzy. Since she’d had her teeth fixed – after a rather nasty run-in with a Slytherin one time – she thought she was quite pretty. But nowhere near as pretty as most women. And Remus, well, Remus was a stunningly attractive man. Maybe his lycanthropy hindered him a little in terms of a relationship, but there was no denying he was far out of her league.

No. He was galaxies beyond her reach. Why Sirius had interpreted their friendship as anything more, she was unsure. Perhaps it was Sirius’s father-like concern for her. She appreciated it, in a way, though she wished he would stop – it clearly upset Remus, to have such accusations thrown in his face.

She was shaken from her thoughts when the fireplace grew to life. She leant forward, and saw Remus’s face appear in the flames.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ she said, almost laughing. ‘Ssh, we have to be quiet.’

‘Okay, sorry.’

‘So. The plan?’

He nodded, and took a deep breath, sparks flying out his mouth and up the chimney as he exhaled.

‘We can’t stay at Hogwarts when I transform. It’s simply impossible. There’s no way it can happen.’

She blinked at him. 

‘So we have to leave. So I thought, how can we leave? Well, we can hardly sneak out for the night. That would look… bad. So, instead, I realised I needed to get formal permission.’

‘Permission?’

He nodded. ‘I went to Dumbledore. I explained, well, I explained what happened that night at the orchard.’

‘You did what?’ she said, panicked.

‘Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him much. I just said that I think my transformation was painless because I was outside, in the country, and I was with company. I left out a lot of the details.’

‘And he believed you?’

‘Well, I twisted the facts a little, made the night sound a lot more ritualistic than it actually was.’

‘There’s no way you tricked Dumbledore.’

He grimaced. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway.’

‘Huh?’

‘Because I requested we take a small excursion from Hogwarts for a few days, around the full moon.’

She looked at him.

‘You see, you would leave under the pretence of a school trip. You’re an exceptional student, so you deserve other ways to heighten your learning. I will escort you.’

‘But if it’s around the full moon, won’t that arouse suspicion?’

‘To be honest, I don’t think many people will be upset about the fact that there won’t be a werewolf in the castle.’

She hummed. ‘But won’t people worry if I go with you, alone? I mean, they shouldn’t, but…’

‘I’ll assure them that I’ve taken the precautions to preserve your safety.’

She wasn’t completely convinced, but she trusted him.

‘I have Dumbledore’s permission. He knows we’re… testing our theory. But nobody else does. The rest of my colleagues think it’s a DADA school trip.’

She nodded, trying not to let on just how excited she was – in reality, she was exhilarated at the thought. A weekend away with Remus? It sounded like a fantasy.

Of course, he didn’t have in mind what she did. She needed to practice a little more self-control.

‘So, where are we going?’ she said, trying to push down the smile that was desperately trying to force its way onto her lips.

‘It’s an ancient wizarding village, Silverlake. Lots of history, lots of odd things about we can pretend to study. We’ll take the train at Hogsmeade, it isn’t too far from here.’

‘When do we leave?

‘Saturday would be fine, I think. We’ll return on Tuesday.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

A broad smile stretched across his face. ‘I take it you’re okay with it, then?’

‘Of course I am!’

He laughed. ‘Alright. I don’t think we’ll speak much before then, so…’

‘It’s only five days away.’

‘Hopefully it’ll go quickly,’ he mused.

She blinked at him.

‘Uh, I mean…’

‘I know. Me too,’ she said, smiling. 

He looked terribly embarrassed, but smiled at her before disappearing into ash, the flames non-existent once again.

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she was so utterly thrilled. As she stood – a little shakily, to her surprise – she was absolutely overwhelmed with happiness and excitement, unable to stop herself from smiling, or her heart from thudding in her chest.

It was when she headed for the staircase that she stopped in her tracks. A boy had appeared, and was looking at her with surprise.

‘Harry?’

‘Hermione? What you doing down here?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I always come down here. I have trouble sleeping most nights, if you must know. And Ron snores… anyway, what’s your excuse?’

She crossed her arms. ‘I had trouble sleeping too.’

‘Is that so.’

He was gazing at her. She knew that expression.

‘Why don’t you believe me?’ she said. He passed her, heading towards his favourite couch in the room.

‘Because you’re lying.’

Hermione frowned. It wasn’t strictly a lie – she did have trouble sleeping that night. Not telling him why wasn’t a lie, it was simply not telling the truth. There was a difference.

‘It’s Professor Lupin, isn’t it? You were talking to him down here.’

She stared at him, mouth agape. How the hell did he know that?

‘I heard you on the staircase. You should maybe learn to whisper if you’re trying to be quiet.’

‘I…’ she didn’t know whether to lie, or simply act as though it was perfectly normal and appropriate to be awake at 1am talking to your professor via fireplace.

‘I wasn’t gonna say anything,’ he continued. ‘But Sirius spoke to me when you left.’

Hermione’s heart was racing again, but not in the same way. 

‘And then I spoke to Ginny.’

Ginny spilled everything? Hermione couldn’t help but feel so disappointed. She thought she could trust her.

Harry sighed. He looked somewhat uncomfortable. 

‘Look, you’re sensible, and you can fancy who you want, but… just be careful, yeah?’

Hermione so wanted to argue, to deny everything. But there was no point. Sirius seemed to think, somewhat ridiculously, Remus fancied her, and Ginny would have told Harry that she fancied him. She was backed into a corner, to the point denial just looked silly.

‘Of course. You really don’t have to worry,’ she said, crossing her arms defensively.

He shrugged, smiling softly. ‘Hey, as long as you’re not going out with Malfoy…’

She laughed. ‘No. I’ve not even seen him properly in ages.’

He pulled a face. 

She didn’t say anymore – she knew he hated their friendship, no matter how many times he said he was fine with it. 

‘I better get to bed,’ she said, stretching.

He nodded.

‘You coming?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah… I usually just sit here for a while.’

She chewed her lip. It was actually kind of nice here in the common room. It was rarely empty nowadays. After a moment, she sat down opposite Harry, to his mild surprise.

‘You not going to bed?’

‘Not right now.’

He smiled. ‘So, uh, what were you talking about just then? If you needed to be up at 1am…’

‘Oh.’ Hermione glanced at her feet. She didn’t have to tell him that, did she? Although, if she was away the whole weekend, he’d find out sooner or later…

‘Well, don’t get the wrong idea, but Remus and I are going on a… school trip.’

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘School trip?’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’

He exhaled.

‘Just you and him?’

‘Look,’ Hermione said, ‘I don’t know what Sirius said, but… it’s nothing to worry about. Honestly. He’s got completely the wrong end of the stick.’

Harry looked unconvinced. ‘You wanna know what Sirius said?’

Hermione was always taught to never ask questions you don’t want the answer to. However, she mostly ignored that advice.

‘Go on.’

‘He said that Lupin was freaking him out. He said you two started to get closer in September, when school started… and for a while, it was okay. He thought it was kinda funny that you… y’know… flirted and stuff.’

Flirted? Since when did Hermione flirt? Did Remus say that they flirt? No. That was something Sirius had gathered himself.

‘But he mentioned the night at the Burrow, you know… and Lupin’s transformation. And it really weirded him out. He’s worried about you.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Well, listen. When you next see Sirius, tell him he doesn’t have to worry. I’m an adult. Remus is an adult too, you know. We’re friends. But he’s my teacher. I’d never dream of… that.’

Harry seemed to consider her for a moment. 

‘Okay,’ he said finally.

‘Good.’

‘Good.’

Much to Hermione’s – and likely Harry’s – relief, the conversation shifted topic, to Quidditch and Ginny and the Weasleys at Grimmauld Place. The hours melted away, and soon the both of them were far too exhausted to speak another word, and retired to their dorms to be up and ready for the following day.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was the Friday before her weekend excursion that Hermione bumped into Draco Malfoy for the first time in weeks.

She supposed it was because everyone – the staff, the pupils, even the ghosts and the poltergeists – were tiring of the strict security at the castle. It was difficult to keep up, particularly after a long month of January blues. Hermione – after some nagging – was allowed to go to the library for the evening rather than being cooped up in the horrifically noisy Gryffindor common room. She didn’t expect to see her favourite Slytherin curled up by the window, opposite her favourite chair. 

‘Draco?’

He glanced up from whatever he was reading.

‘Oh. Granger.’

‘Hello to you too,’ she said, pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down. It was pouring with rain outside, pitch black and dreary. Somehow, though, combined with the near-silence of the library, very comforting.

‘It’s just strange. Feels like we’ve not talked in ages.’

‘Well, we haven’t. Not since you stormed off that time in the dungeon.

‘Hmph. Well, it’s hardly my fault they’re running this place like Azkaban now, is it?’

Hermione sighed. ‘No, it’s not. How did you get down here, anyway? We’re meant to be in the common rooms.’

He shrugged. ‘I come down here a lot. Can’t stand it.’

‘Did you get permission?’

His amused snort was enough of an answer.

‘Why am I not surprised,’ she muttered.

‘Oh, you secretly envy me. You want to be me, Granger. You want me. Admit it.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘There’s nobody I want more than you, Draco,’ she said sarcastically.

He smirked. ‘Speaking of which, how’s the hubby?’

‘We’re leaving tomorrow for a romantic weekend away,’ she said flatly.

Draco laughed. She gazed at him. 

‘You – you’re not serious?’

‘Deadly.’

Draco blinked at her, before a broad, mischievous smile stretched across his face.

‘You two finally gonna fuck, then?’

‘Oh, shut up, Draco. No. It’s a school trip.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Ooh, it’s a school trip,’ he said, in a whiny voice that was presumably supposed to resemble her own. ‘Don’t be boring. How’s that even allowed? Hogwarts doesn’t do school trips.’

‘They do occasionally, for certain people. After all, I am an exceptional student,’ Hermione said smugly.

‘Shut up. Exceptionally boring, maybe. Why not take the opportunity while you have it?’

She groaned. ‘It’s – it’s for his lycanthropy. We’re trying to see if we can replicate the last full moon. Another painless transformation.’

Draco hummed. He looked somewhat interested, though equally, if not more so, interested in Hermione’s sex life.

‘So just you and him are going then?’

She nodded.

‘Mark my words Granger,’ he said. ‘You better not fuck this opportunity up. Or I’ll never talk to you again.’

‘That’s a bit harsh. If I don’t definitely have sex with my professor, you’ll end our friendship?’

He nodded, shrugging. ‘If you don’t, this is getting thrown in the lake.’ He leaned forward and put his hand down the front of his shirt, yanking out a chain. 

Hermione grinned. It was the friendship necklace she’d given him – mostly ironically – for Christmas.

‘I can’t believe you wear that.’

‘Don’t you?’ he said, pretending to be deeply offended. She grinned, tucking her hand down her own shirt and pulling out her own necklace.

‘Of course I do.’


	24. The Journey

Hermione couldn’t remember being so excited.

They were leaving at midday – late for Hermione, but early for Remus. He’d argued that it was because of the train times, but she knew he was lying.

She spent the day rushing through some homework – she wouldn’t have the opportunity until Tuesday, after all – and finishing her packing. 

It was still winter, and according to a couple of books she’d found the day before, Silverlake was based in mountainous land. It would be very cold. 

Which was why she scorned herself for packing the sundress her parents had sent her for her birthday. It was very pretty – a light blue, lacy thing with a nice neckline – but it was utterly useless.

Speaking of useless, she also packed the Weasleys’ Wonderwitch package that had been sat in her trunk since September. The love potions were long since expired, but the cosmetic items didn’t seem too bad. She tossed it all in her suitcase anyway – there was plenty of space after she applied a mixture of charms. After a good few minutes of consideration, she threw in the underwear Ginny had given her for her birthday, and slammed it shut before she changed her mind.

Crookshanks eyed her resentfully as she left her dorm. Ginny had kindly offered to care of him while Hermione was away, but she could tell the cat was rather upset he wasn’t invited.

Remus was waiting outside when she arrived at the gates of Hogwarts. He was wearing dark, thick robes and was holding a bag in each hand, and he smiled at her warmly as she approached him.

‘Morning,’ he said, beaming.

‘It’s half past twelve,’ she said, shaking her head. 

‘That’s still morning. It’s not afternoon ‘til, oh, I don’t know, three?’

She laughed, but was interrupted as a carriage approached. She glanced at him.

‘This isn’t for us, is it?’

‘It is.’

‘A carriage? It’s only a short walk to Hogsmeade.’

‘Not in this temperature. And not with these bags,’ he said, his eyes darting to the luggage in her grip. ‘Hop in, dear. I’ll handle those.’

She reddened and shook her head, handing him the suitcases and not daring to look him in the eye. The carriage was nice; self-drawn, enclosed with a roof, and quite comfortable. She thought these were reserved for staff and visitors; the ones students typically used were in rougher condition. 

‘You got your wolfsbane?’ she called from inside the carriage. He appeared at the other side.

‘Oh, no!’ he said, as he clambered into the seat alongside her. ‘I’ve forgotten all about it! Looks like you’re sleeping with a rabid werewolf. Sorry about that.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘It’s there. I’m extremely responsible.’

She hummed. 

‘Sleeping with, did you say?’ she said, as the carriage started to move with a slight jolt.

A hint of a smirk played on his lips. ‘Did I? I don’t think I did.’

‘Must be my own imagination,’ she said, cocking an eyebrow.

‘I should hope not. How inappropriate that would be.’

She laughed, gazing out through the window. It was a wonderful day. Cold, yes, and a little bleak, but with a strangely beautiful light and a cool, refreshing feeling in the air that felt pure and cleansing. She hoped it would be like this at Silverlake; it wasn’t overly far, but sounded quite different by what she gathered from the books she found. It was ancient, and there wasn’t much around in the sense of tourism. There was an inn, and a couple of shops for the locals, but that was mostly it. The main attraction was the fact it was secluded in the mountains, much like Hogwarts, and – true to its name – a huge, magical lake that forever shined silver could be overlooked from the village.

‘What are we pretending to study at Silverlake?’ Hermione asked.

Remus grinned. ‘Well, we will be pretending to be very busy. There’s a breed of dragon – very timid, compared to the more famous kind we all know about – some strange fish in the lake, some mermaids we probably won’t ever see, various birds… there’s supposedly an odd magic in the place, too, but I’m not sure how much of that is superstition.’

‘Odd magic?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve heard lots of conflicting ideas about it. They say you sense it as soon as you get near the lake. It’s not dark magic, supposedly, just very old and… it feels funny. Though perhaps it’s a matter of the mind playing tricks on the body, and there’s nothing there whatsoever.’

Hermione hummed. ‘What effects does it have?’

He sighed. ‘There are cases of people going mad. Those are the extreme examples. Though, they’re so rare that one has to wonder whether they were simply mad in the first place.’

‘And the less extreme examples?’ Hermione asked, as the carriage went over a slight bump in the road.

‘Some say it’s lucky. People visit at certain dates during the year, hoping to increase their chances of wealth, good health and prosperity. Some claim that it brings love.’

Hermione chewed her lip and stared out of the window.

‘What do you think?’

He chuckled. ‘I think it’s old magic that attracts the attention of various creatures, which is why so many rare and exotic beasts tend to live there. Possibly man-made for hunting purposes, or perhaps an occurrence of nature. It was made too long ago to know for sure.’

‘Huh.’ Hermione pondered this. ‘If it’s okay… I’d quite like to study it for real. Not just pretend.’

Remus hummed. ‘Maybe we should, then. It’d be unfair on you to let this whole weekend go to waste, anyway.’

‘It’ll hardly go to waste,’ she said, turning to look at him finally. ‘If we could work out how to make your transformations painless all the time… it’ll be one of the most worthwhile things I’ve ever done.’

‘Now that’s not true,’ he replied matter-of-factly. He turned to stare out at the window beside him, but Hermione caught a glimpse of his mouth twitching into a smile.

♦ ♦ ♦

They arrived at Hogsmeade train station far sooner than usual on the carriage, and strolled leisurely around the shops while they waited for their train to arrive. To Hermione’s delight, the train was near empty, save for a few witches and wizards scattered around, mostly keeping to themselves in their own carriages. 

It was a train similar to the Hogwarts Express, but was coloured a rusty orange colour, and looked even older than the scarlet engine she usually boarded. The carpet was olive green and the interior was ancient, though charming in a quaint way. Most of the passengers seemed about as ancient as the train, too. It was refreshing to not be surrounded by screaming Hogwarts students for once.

Remus guided Hermione towards the front of the train. As she passed through each carriage and peered into each of the little rooms, she noticed they were getting more splendid as they continued.

‘Does this train have a class system?’ she asked, as he finally stopped at a room very near the front and held the door open for her.

‘Yes. But it’s not that expensive to use first class when the train’s so empty, so I thought…’ he shrugged. 

‘Oh,’ she breathed. The room was rather lovely, if oddly decorated with lots of strange little eccentricities scattered around, and conforming to the train’s bizarre colour scheme of orange and green. ‘How much do I owe you for the ticket?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘But-’

He held up a hand and shook his head. ‘Stop it. You don’t owe me anything. If anything, I owe you a great deal for doing this.’ He grabbed her suitcase and placed it above her seat, and put his own opposite.

She bit her lip. She felt a little bad – she knew Remus wasn’t a wealthy man. Though maybe Hogwarts paid better than she thought; it looked as though his robes were new, and he was wearing an indigo jumper that she’d never seen on him before.

‘Are all those new?’ she asked, looking him up and down as he stretched out on the seat opposite her.

He shrugged and his cheeks pinked a little. ‘Uh, yes, they are. I thought it’d be nice to have clothes without holes that even magic can’t fix.’

She laughed. ‘That colour looks good on you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, beaming. He breathed and gazed towards the door, and drew the curtains across with his wand.

‘How long’s the journey?’

‘Quite a few hours, I’m afraid. We’ll reach Silverlake in time for dinner at the Inn, hopefully. We could go for a walk if you want, but I’m sure you’ll just want to sleep.’

‘So we’ll get there in the evening?’

‘Well, Silverlake doesn’t have a station. So we’ll reach our stop in about…’ he rummaged around in his pocket and found his watch, which pointed to one. ‘Five hours. And then it’ll take about an hour by carriage to reach the village. If all goes to plan, that is.’

She nodded, taking off her robes and tucking them behind her back. She thought she’d do a bit of reading.

Remus was gazing at her nervously.

‘You okay?’ she asked, grabbing her satchel and pulling out the first book she found.

‘I just, uh, sorry. I feel like I’ve made this a bit complicated. I didn’t want to put you through this much trouble…’

She chuckled. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m really excited. You’ve gone to all the trouble.’

He inhaled and smiled at her weakly. ‘Alright. Okay.’

She’d pulled out a book someone had given to her for Christmas, and began to thumb its pages.

‘D’you still have my lycanthropy book?’ Remus asked. 

‘Uh…’

‘Twenty-Nine Days of Lycanthropy. Pseudo-science nonsense, most of it.’

‘Oh!’ Hermione felt a little guilty. ‘Yes, I still have it. Do you want it back?’

He shook his head. ‘You can keep it, if you like.’

'I-'

‘Please. If you want it, have it.’

She smiled, and began to rummage around in her bag for the book in question. She’d brought it with her deliberately, considering the sole reason for the trip.

‘Ah. There it is,’ he said, as she pulled it from the bag.

Hermione hummed. ‘So what parts are nonsense?’

She heard Remus sigh thoughtfully, and then he stood, moving to sit beside her. As he did so she caught a wave of his scent. He smelled like mint, his shampoo or his toothpaste, perhaps, and his clothes smelled fresh, though were starting to smell like his skin, which was often oddly sweet and distinctly floral. She could detect a hint of chocolate, too. He probably had a stash with him, knowing Remus.

Her heart fluttered as he lent into her a little and reached forward to hold half the book in his hands, the other half in hers. 

‘Well, it’s two days ‘til the full moon, so let’s go to Chapter…’ he flicked through pages towards the end. ‘Ah, see here, the things about diet are all rubbish.’

She scanned the passage he was pointing at.

‘The final days leading up to a full moon are often the most intense for a werewolf,’ she read aloud. She glanced at Remus, who had scoffed, before continuing. ‘For multiple reasons, the diet often changes in this period. Some are emotional, such as stress, anxiety, depression. Others are purely biological; as the body is preparing for the transformation – which is extremely strenuous – the werewolf will crave a diet consisting of high levels of sugar, protein and carbohydrates.’

He shook his head. ‘See. I’m not depressed or anything. And I don’t naturally crave sugar or protein or… whatever.’

She cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘What was the last thing you ate?’

He thought for a second, then pulled a face. ‘Breakfast.’

‘What did you have?’

‘Just… normal things.’

‘What’s that?’

He looked utterly shameful. ‘Well. A bit of chocolate cake.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘How much?’

‘A slice.’

‘How big a slice?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t have to answer these questions.’

She shook her head at him, and looked back down at the book. 

‘Okay, here’s a passage about mental state,’ she said. Remus made a scoffing noise again, which she chose to ignore.

‘The werewolf is extremely alert, the oncoming full moon’s power drawing their attention to the self and their surroundings. For example, they react to loud noises quickly and with surprise, and their reflexes improve considerably. All five senses are heightened, particularly smell and hearing, and they find they are filled with energy. These symptoms intensify until the moment of transformation. Post-transformation, the werewolf is fatigued due to the physical and emotional exertion of a typical transformation.’

Remus shrugged. 

‘You can’t deny all that,’ she said pointedly.

‘Well, it’s sort of true. Though it exaggerates. My senses aren’t incredible.’

‘You knew when my heart beat faster a few weeks ago. Have they improved?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose.’

She continued reading aloud. Remus would occasionally chuckle derisively at whatever was written, or cross his arms defensively, or pause for a moment as though to consider what was said. 

‘Notably, during this time the werewolf is…’ she trailed off as her eyes fell on the words that followed.

‘Hmm?’

‘Uh…’ she pointed to the page, and Remus read it for a moment. He was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head, and picked up from where she left off.

‘The werewolf is in peak sexual form,’ he said mockingly. ‘The greatening level of energy and the heightened senses all contribute, amongst other things, to the werewolf’s natural desire to procreate, thus highly increasing the sex drive and improving sexual performance.’ He flicked the book shut, and it fell into Hermione’s hands. ‘See. Nonsense. Like I said.’

She smirked a little. His back had straightened and he’d crossed both his arms and legs, and his expression had hardened with irritation. 

‘That’s a shame,’ she muttered, sighing and putting the book away.

She held back a laugh as she watched his face heat up, his mouth opening to retort but no words following.

‘You stop that,’ he said finally, standing to sit in his own seat once more.

♦ ♦ ♦

As the hours passed the day grew darker. By five, it looked as though it were already approaching night time. It was comfortably dim in the train carriage; the light bulbs were tired and weak and flickered as though they were trying to keep themselves from falling asleep. Remus himself had drifted off whilst she was reading, his head on the armrest, the rest of him curled up so his legs could fit on the seat. He was on his side, facing towards her. He looked incredibly peaceful, his chest rising and falling gently, his features soft and content. 

He’d shrugged off his robes earlier and he’d managed to kick them off to the floor in his slumber. She put her book down and stooped to pluck them from the carpet, and gently drew them over his body before sitting back down. 

She didn’t want to put any more light in the room – she didn’t want to accidentally wake him, after all. But she couldn’t read in this light, so she tucked her books back in her satchel and curled up in her seat, gazing out the window. The sun had set and the moon was beginning to rise, and it was raining gently against the glass.

And then, without quite meaning to, her gaze fell onto the man opposite her. God, he was lovely. She knew it was a little odd, watching him sleep, but she didn’t know how long she had before he was sent back off to werewolf packs in Spain and France and Italy and Greece or wherever Dumbledore would tell him to go. 

There was a nasty pang in her chest at the thought of him leaving.

Then he stirred, and she immediately cast her gaze back to the window.

‘You alright?’ he mumbled, still half-asleep.

‘Yeah,’ she said softly. 

He hummed and nodded, and his eyes fell shut once again.

She had an hour before she reached her station. She intended to simply lie down and close her eyes, but within a few minutes, she too fell asleep.

♦ ♦ ♦

‘Hermione.’

Hermione groaned and ignored whoever was trying to wake her.

‘Hermione, wake up.’

She felt a hand grip her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to see Remus bent over her.

‘We’re here.’

She sat upright and blinked the sleep from her eyes, and stood up a little shakily. ‘That was quick,’ she muttered.

‘We almost missed our stop. It’s lucky I woke up.’ He’d grabbed both the suitcases and pulled his robes back on. ‘C’mon, or we’ll be sent off to God knows where.’

She nodded and grabbed her robes and satchel and followed him out of the carriage. The cold outside was a bit of a shock to the system – she shuddered, watching as her warm breath entered the air.

‘Oh my God, it’s freezing,’ she groaned, shivering and scanning around the train station.

‘Is it? I don’t feel too bad,’ Remus said.

‘Probably something to do with your increased energy or whatever,’ Hermione muttered, glaring at the man. ‘I can’t believe we have to travel for an hour to get there.’

‘It’ll be alright. Come on, I think that’s us.’

He pointed to a small horse-drawn carriage, stood near a path away from the station. A man in a uniform stood nearby. Remus strolled over, Hermione in tow, still absolutely freezing.

‘Hello,’ Remus said cheerfully. 

‘Name?’ the uniformed man said.

‘Lupin.’

The man nodded and held his hand towards the carriage, and walked away without another word.

Hermione stared at him as he walked away. ‘Isn’t he the driver?’

‘No, no. I’m doing that. This belongs to the stables at Silverlake.’

‘You’re driving the carriage?’ she said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look so nervous.’

‘I’m terrified.’

His eyebrows furrowed. ‘Come on, hop in.’

She observed the carriage. It wasn’t anything like the Hogwarts one; there was only a single bench to sit on, which was where the driver would presumably sit. The rest of the space had been taken up by their suitcases.

‘Where?’

‘On the horse,’ Remus said sarcastically. ‘The bench.’

Hermione glanced at it. It seemed too small for the two of them, but she trusted he knew what he was doing and climbed up, albeit a little cautiously.

Remus clambered up too from the other side and seated himself next to her. The bench was just a little bit small for the both of them, and Hermione blushed as she was forcibly pressed into him.

‘You ready?’ he said, picking up the reigns.

She nodded. 

‘Might want to hold onto something.’

She gripped the edge of the seat but she was still thrown forward as Remus urged the horse forward and she only just managed to stop herself from falling off. When she saw Remus smirking she slapped his shoulder.

‘That wasn’t funny!

‘Of course not,’ he said, grinning at her mischievously. 

‘It’s too cold,’ she moaned. ‘Can’t you just apparate us there?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know the place well enough. Don’t want to lose a few limbs, do you?’

She sighed. ‘If I sit here for an hour I’ll freeze by the time we get there.’

He glanced at her.

‘You really that cold, or are you just being dramatic?’ he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’m really that cold. And I’m never dramatic, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He chuckled. ‘Alright. Come on.’

Before she could ask what he was doing, he’d put both reigns in his right hand and wrapped his left arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his chest, her head nestled in his neck. He then took the left reign again, and urged the horses to go faster.

Hermione was uneasily aware of the fact Remus could feel her heart pound in her chest and all other kinds of stirrings taking place in her body. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore them.

‘Better?’ he asked softly.

She could only manage to make a humming noise in affirmation.

‘Good.’

They sat there in silence, the horse guiding them through narrow, winding pathways through woodlands and orchards and high-standing land. Thankfully the rain had stopped, and it wasn’t a too cloudy night; high above them, the night sky was shimmering as though it were studded with jewels.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Remus mused.

‘Mm,’ Hermione said, sighing a little and letting herself settle into him. 

The journey to Silverlake went by too quickly.


	25. The Lake

Silverlake was more beautiful than Hermione could have ever imagined.

As the carriage pulled into the village, she was greeted with a breath-taking view of the famed lake; even though she expected it to be as beautiful as the books she’d read had claimed, nothing could have prepared her for the sight. It was huge, expanding far out into the horizon, and it shined a colour she’d not seen before; she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the moonlight, but it shone and glistened as though it truly were made of liquid silver. 

The village was charming, though very small. They parked at the stables and passed a post office, a barber’s, a butcher’s, a grocer’s and a few shops that she was unsure about, since they were completely closed down for the evening. 

‘Do you want to walk around for a bit, or go straight to the inn?’ Remus asked, gazing around at the village.

‘We have plenty of time for walking around tomorrow,’ Hermione said, with a yawn.

Remus nodded. The inn was called The Black Dog – which reminded Hermione heavily of Sirius, for obvious reasons – and was the busiest place in the village. Even then, it was still relatively quiet. Most of the residents were old and wizened and were content with minding their own business, flicking through the local newspaper or talking quietly amongst themselves. Not many even bothered to look up as Remus and Hermione entered and made their way towards the barkeep.

She was a middle-aged woman with a round face and a warm smile. She greeted them with a soft voice as they approached.

‘How can I help?’ she asked.

‘We’ve booked two rooms,’ Remus explained. ‘Should be under the name Lupin.’

The woman nodded. ‘I’ve got you with adjoining rooms, if that’s alright,’ she said, handing them both a rusty key each.

Remus glanced at Hermione. ‘That’s fine,’ they both said.

The woman smiled. ‘You’re on the second floor, the two rooms on the right. Enjoy your stay.’

‘Don’t suppose we could make a reservation for dinner?’ Remus asked.

The woman bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve just missed it.’

Remus shrugged. ‘Alright. Thank you.’ He nodded at Hermione and she followed him to the stairs and up to the second floor.

The inn seemed absolutely ancient. Every floorboard creaked under her feet, and the stairs seemed as though only magic was keeping them upright; Hermione was nervous as she climbed them, gripping the handrail tightly. Despite this, the place itself was very interesting; old sleeping portraits lined the walls and glowing lanterns offered a comfortable light as they reached their rooms.

‘Well, I think this is me, and that’s you,’ Remus said, nodding at the two adjacent rooms. Hermione smiled at the man tiredly.

‘I guess I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Don’t rush to get up, or anything.’

She laughed. ‘What, you think you’ll wake up before me?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Not a chance.’

They paused at their own doors for a moment, simply looking at each other, before smiling and laughing and hurriedly entering their rooms with a quick farewell.

Hermione’s room was surprisingly lovely; it was a small, pretty little room, with a single bed surrounded by lavender canopies. Though it was too dark outside at the moment, she was sure the window offered a glorious view of the lake. She threw her suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack, her clothes levitating across the room and hanging themselves in the wardrobe. Thankfully, the room also had a small en-suite bathroom.

She was starving, but they’d missed dinner – the carriage journey had taken longer than both of them expected. Her stomach rumbled angrily as she changed out of her robes and into her favourite silky pair of pyjamas, and she rubbed it sadly. She’d have to wait until breakfast – she decided, instead, to occupy herself with a good book before going to bed.

She curled up amongst the covers and leant her head against the pillows, flicking through the first book she found. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting to the door that presumably led to Remus’s room. She so desperately wanted to go through, to see him…

She shook her head. He’d probably had enough of her by now.

Though, sometimes, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he somewhat reciprocated her feelings. He certainly liked her, if simply platonically. Was it so crazy to think it could be more than that?

Yes. Yes it was. She groaned and let her head fall into the book, breathing in its wonderful dusty smell.

She was mildly startled when there was a knock at the door.

‘Uh, come in.’

The door that led to Remus’s room opened and he appeared, still dressed. He looked at her somewhat embarrassedly.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he said, biting his lip. ‘But I managed to scavenge some food from the kitchens, if you’re hungry.’

‘Oh! Yes, please,’ Hermione breathed, shutting the book and getting out of bed. The food was presumably in his room – he didn’t look as though he was about to bring it through.

‘They could only make a few simple things…’ he explained, holding the door open for her as she entered. ‘Soup, sandwiches… I quite fancied a steak, but they weren’t up for that.’

Hermione laughed. ‘It’s fine. Thank you. And, uh…’ she raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Steak? I thought you thought it was nonsense, that werewolves craved protein before the full moon?’

He pulled a face, perching on the end of his bed.

‘God, woman. A man can’t have a steak without being interrogated about it?’ he cried, shaking his head. ‘Honestly.’

She laughed, rubbing her neck. She felt a little exposed in her pyjamas, and she could feel his eyes on her. She tried to ignore him as she started eating.

‘You warm enough?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Good.’ He looked at her. She was stood in the centre of the room with crossed arms, eating sandwiches.

‘You can sit down, you know,’ he said, smiling amusedly. He patted the bed next to him.

She felt her breath hitch a little as some feeling unfurled in the pits of her stomach and she nodded, reddening, and sat down next to him. 

‘This place is okay, isn’t it?’ he mused, his gaze sweeping the room. His room was little bigger than Hermione’s; the bed was a double, the wardrobe was a little wider and he had more space to walk around, though she noted that her room was decidedly prettier.

‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, beaming at him. He chuckled. 

‘Well, it’s up to you how we spend this time. There’s plenty to explore.’

Hermione ignored the naughty ideas bubbling up in her head.

‘I’d like to go down to the lake at some point. Feel this strange magic I’ve heard so much about.’

Remus hummed. ‘Tell you what. We’ll have dinner at the inn tomorrow, and then take a walk around the lake afterwards. It’s meant to be more powerful at night time.’

Hermione nodded happily, taking another bite from her sandwich, and gazing at the man wistfully as he talked her through all his thoughts for the weekend.

♦ ♦ ♦

Hermione woke surprisingly late in the morning, and dressed hurriedly to be in time for breakfast at the inn. She wasn’t alone for long – Remus joined her soon after – and once they’d finished, they left The Black Dog to finally see the village in the daylight.

Even during the day, the place was eerily quiet.

‘I was expecting it to be busier,’ Hermione said, her eyes sweeping the place. There were more people out and about than the evening before, but not nearly as many as she’d anticipated.

Remus shrugged. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not all that fond of crowds.’

Hermione wasn’t either. They peered about the shops and then Remus talked her into exploring the nearby forested area. When they reached it, she was heavily reminded with memories of the Forbidden Forest; it was as dark, even during the day, and showed signs of all kinds of magical creatures taking up residence in the trees and the earth. She winced as she noticed an awfully large spider-web swallowing up a tree trunk, and thought of Ron.

They pursued their journey and found themselves deep in the woodlands, and both drew their wands, casting a lumos and illuminating their path. Hermione almost leapt out of her skin when, all of a sudden, Remus let out a gasp.

‘Remus, don’t do that!’ she whispered, slapping his arm angrily. He cast her an amused expression before bending down and beckoning her to join him.

‘Look. Scorched,’ he said quietly, pointing to a patch on the ground.

‘What, you think…’

‘Dragons, yes. Or someone had a bonfire at some point, but I’m rather hoping for the former.’

She stared around the trees, raising her wand. 

‘I don’t see anything.’

‘No. They’re mostly nocturnal. We should come back at night.’

‘I thought we were going to the lake at night?’

He nodded. ‘We still can. Let me show you something… that is, if my guess is correct.’

They both stood and Remus strolled on through the forest purposefully, hopping over tree roots and ducking under branches with surprising grace and agility. She almost struggled to keep up with him, though it was mostly her caution that held back her pace.

‘Remus, we’re going to get lost.’

She heard him make a scoffing noise from ahead and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were already lost.

Though perhaps they weren’t. She gradually came to the realisation that she didn’t need her wand to light her path, as the trees above their heads were thinning and letting the sunlight stream in through the branches. She tucked her wand away – Remus had done the same – and continued onwards.

Remus was so far ahead she almost lost sight of him. She followed in the direction from which he had disappeared, and was met with a wonderful sight. 

Remus had stopped in a moderately sized clearing in the forest. There were no trees to block the sunlight, so it was beautifully bright, and a corner of the lake stretched into the clearing. She hurried to join Remus’s side, who had taken to approaching the very edge of the water to stare out at the expansive view of the crystal clear blue skies and the silvery lake shimmering almost luxuriously.

She took a deep breath. God, it was stunning.

‘Feel anything?’ Remus asked.

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. ‘Uh, what?’

‘Magic?’

‘Oh.’ Hermione stared out again, and cautiously tipped the toes of her boot into the lake. Nothing happened, except the slight dampening of her shoe.

‘Just awe,’ she said with a sigh. She didn’t think she’d be forgetting this view anytime soon.

‘That’s more than enough, I should think,’ Remus said thoughtfully. She glimpsed at him and saw that he’d closed his eyes, breathing in the air happily, and Hermione thought that she wouldn’t be forgetting this view anytime soon, either.

They stood in silence for a very long time.

‘Fancy a swim?’ Remus said suddenly, his eyes darting to her with a definite hint of mischief.

‘What? No! It’s freezing!’

‘Oh, don’t be silly.’

‘Remus, it’s winter, and we’re in bloody Scotland of all places…’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. Hey, we might see some mermaids.’

‘No!’

But Remus was shrugging off his robes and tossing them on the ground. He kicked off his shoes and stood in only a short-sleeved shirt and trousers, and was looking at Hermione expectantly.

‘It’s not going to happen. But you can freeze to death, if you like.’

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He shook his head, sighing. They stood, looking at each other for a moment, until Hermione realised his eyes were darting towards her and the water behind her, and she began to realise what he was planning.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

‘What? I’m not doing anything,’ he said, taking one step closer.

‘Remus,’ she warned.

But he’d already grabbed her and she staggered back into the water, pulling him with her – she managed to stay upright, unlike Remus, but the lake was surprisingly deep and she was soaked to the thighs, her shoes filling with water and her jeans swamped. She squealed at the cold and glared at Remus, who had fallen to his hands and feet and was absolutely dripping wet.

‘Remus!’ she growled.

He was cackling, gathering to his feet and laughing heartily at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh too. 

‘It isn’t funny!’ she said, though she was giggling, and she kicked her leg to splash him, the water flattening his hair and washing his face.

He cried out and wiped his face with his arm and glared at her before leaning down and splashing her with both hands, and as she tried to run backwards from him she too fell into the lake, her entire body soaked, shivering, but she didn’t care – she was euphorically happy.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ she groaned. 

‘Come on, it’s not that cold,’ he said cheerfully, wading a little further into the lake.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Look.’

She grumbled as she followed him, but he was taller than her, and the water swallowed her up more easily. It was surprisingly clean and clear, however, which made it all the more easy to see what Remus was pointing to.

He had found some kind of school of fish; they were tiny, but there were thousands of them, technicolour and swimming rapidly, the entirety of their group about the size of a dolphin.

‘Sometimes you just have to look a little closer,’ he said, smiling happily.

She hummed. ‘I thought you were a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus? You know an awful lot about magical creatures.’

He shrugged. ‘I know a lot about many things,’ he said, winking at her and turning to wade out of the lake.

She flushed as she shook her head and followed him out. It was only once she was out of the water and her soaking wet clothes met the air that she realised how utterly chilled to the bone she was. Remus noticed, and before pulling his dry cloak over her shoulders, muttered a spell and took his wand to her person, and she breathed with relief as the dampness fled from her clothes.

Her hair was ridiculously wild and frizzy – there wasn’t enough magic in the world to tame that – and he smirked at her as she desperately tried to flatten it.

‘Well, that was fun,’ she said, finally giving up with her hair.

‘It’ll be more fun tonight. Dragons, hopefully.’

She laughed. ‘Reminds me of Hagrid.’

‘Ah yes,’ Remus said. ‘I’ve heard all about Norbert.’

She grinned and stared around the clearing, and at the smiling, wonderful man in front of her, wondering if life got any better than this.

♦ ♦ ♦

They’d spent the day walking and exploring. Remus had got talking to some of the locals and Hermione had found herself utterly enthralled by the place; the last time she’d been so taken with something, she was eleven, setting foot in Hogwarts for the first time.

It was approaching evening now, already incredibly dark outside. Hermione was stood in her room.

She’d laid out various items of clothing on her bed. Some jeans, and a few sweaters, and her sundress – her only dress – and was stood, cross armed, staring at all of it and thinking.

She was about to have dinner with Remus downstairs in the inn. And she wanted to look nice, but she didn’t want to look like she’d tried to look nice. It was quite the dilemma.

She’d already tried and removed every cosmetic the Wonderwitch package had to offer. The lashes had clung to her eyelids, sticky and heavy, and she hated the way the makeup had felt against her face. She’d wiped it clean and applied only a little, here and there. She wanted to look nice, but she wanted to look like herself, too.

She’d put the dress on and taken it off about three times when there was a knock at the door. Stood in only her underwear, she quickly tugged on her jeans and a jumper and called out when she was decent.

‘I thought we were meeting downstairs?’ she said, fastening her jeans around her hips as Remus entered cautiously.

His eyes fell on her for a moment before he answered. ‘Well, yes, but I was just wondering – are you all that hungry?’

Truthfully, she wasn’t. They’d eaten breakfast and lunch and snacked during the day and frankly she was completely full. But she’d been looking forward to having a candlelit meal with Remus, rather embarrassingly.

She shrugged, and decided to tell the truth. ‘Not really.’

Remus hummed. ‘Well, if you’re up for it, we could go on our walk now rather than later. Up to you.’

She nodded. ‘Sounds good. Let me grab my coat.’

He stood and watched her as she hurried around for her coat and shoes and did not speak for a moment.

‘Uh, Hermione…’ he said slowly.

She glanced up at him. ‘Hmm?’

‘Why’ve you brought that?’ he said, pointing to the heaped dress on the floor, where she’d tossed it away in frustration.

She looked at it. ‘I, uh, wasn’t sure what the weather would be like. It might have been warm.’

He eyed her. ‘In Scotland? In January?’

She nodded innocently.

He blinked, and before she could say another word, he’d started towards her.

‘What’re you…’

‘Hold still,’ he said quietly, raising a hand to her face. ‘Something in your eye, I think.’

‘Oh, that’s just…’ she didn’t explain. 

‘Eugh,’ he grumbled, removing a lump of the thick black goo that the Wonderwitch mascara had coated her lashes with. ‘What’s this stuff?’

‘No idea. Let’s go.’

‘It looks like…’ he wiped it on his robes, and his eyes darted to the package on the bed. ‘Oh.’

‘I was just trying out some of their products. They got it for my birthday, I felt bad for never using it…’

Remus nodded, though looked a little confused. ‘Well. It’s not like you need it, anyway.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

He shrugged and pulled a face. ‘Well, how about we see about this lake business then, hmm?’

Locking the doors behind them, Hermione and Remus headed down the stairs and out of the inn, and strolled out towards the forest to follow the path they’d taken that morning. Oddly, Hermione was starting to sense something bizarre; she wasn’t sure whether it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she was almost sure she could feel a kind of strange aura, a powerful wave of something akin to emotion but somehow different, the closer she got to the lake. But it wasn’t awe or reverence at the beauty of it, like that morning or the evening before; it was almost like caution. It reminded her of the fear that somebody is watching you, though it was somehow more palpable.

She tried to ignore it. Remus seemed totally unaffected, strolling along with great strides, perfectly happy. She didn’t want to ruin the evening by complaining about some weird feeling that didn’t make any sense.

On the way through the forest, Remus had stopped her once or twice to listen to the noises he believed were coming from the dragonkin, though they weren’t fortunate enough to actually see anything. When they reached the clearing, finally, Hermione’s feeling of caution worsened. Still she ignored it, though she couldn’t shrug off the feeling she was walking into her own nightmare. She subconsciously drifted closer towards Remus, whose presence was the only thing alleviating this nauseating anxiety.

But despite her worries, the clearing at night was even more beautiful than the day. The night was clear once again, and the stars shimmered brightly like a scattering of glitter, and the near-full moon sat like an ornament against the velvety sky.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Remus was staring at the moon with an expression Hermione couldn’t quite read. Hermione was starting to feel a little dizzy.

Remus broke out of whatever trance he’d found himself in and let out a great sigh. ‘You know, I’m not sure if this lake really does hold any mystery… but you can’t deny, it’s beautiful.’

Hermione nodded and grunted.

Remus’s eyes shot to her, full of concern.

‘Are you alright?’

She nodded weakly, though he’d taken a step nearer to her, and her discomfort must have been written all over her face.

‘God, you’re looking pale,’ he muttered, and his hands rose to delicately touch her forehead and neck. At any other time she’d have relished his touch. But right now, she felt too awful to enjoy it.

‘Do you feel sick?’

‘A little.’

‘Oh, God, Hermione,’ he said, his voice dripping with worry. ‘I’m sorry, were you actually hungry before? Oh, I dragged you away here and now you feel terrible…’

‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, shaking her head. 

He blinked. ‘Food poisoning, then? But we’ve eaten the same things, and I feel fine…’

Suddenly, Hermione felt a strange, sickly heat rise from the pits of her stomach, up to her throat, and fill her head and extremities with a burning fever. Remus must have felt her temperature rise, the concern in his face growing worse.

‘We need to get you back,’ he said, his hands falling to her shoulders as he gently encouraged her in the direction that led back to the inn.

But she’d frozen. She was overwhelmed by whatever fever had suddenly struck her, and all she wanted to do was cool down – the freezing winter air wasn’t enough. Her eyes darted to the lake and, without hesitation, she staggered across the clearing towards the water, and, reaching its edge, she knelt and cupped the cold liquid in her hands, lifting it to her face.

Then, all went dark.

She couldn’t feel any part of herself anymore. But she could still see – or, see something. Not the lake, not Remus or the night sky, not her own hands dowsing her face with cold water. Everything had disappeared.

New shapes and colours had emerged from her sudden blindness, blurred and melted together, but sharpening over time, though she wasn’t sure how much time was passing. 

Then she heard voices. 

A low voice, definitely a man’s. It was deep, and gravelly, and weak. But as she continued to listen, she found the voice was twisting into some kind of jovial taunt, with a bizarre joy.

And then she heard screaming, a dozen voices all yelling and shouting and crying, mingling into an incomprehensible mess. 

And the colours and shapes she saw melded into a person. 

Harry.

He was a little way away from wherever she was stood but it was undoubtedly him. He was entrapped in some kind of stone statue and was writhing and screaming.

And her vision temporarily sharpened, and she looked around, and found herself in some kind of graveyard. She was by no means alone. She felt the presence of someone directly next to her, though she didn’t feel concerned about that, and did not turn to look at whoever stood by her. 

She focused, instead, on the people she viewed from afar. A circle of dark cloaked figures with no faces and over a dozen strange boxes were placed around the statue. 

She felt too detached from herself. In fact, she did not feel like herself at all – she appeared to be viewing the scene from someone else’s eyes, not her own. This body was not hers. It was bigger, heavier. 

And, suddenly, with a blur, and a power and force she did not know, this alien body had thrown itself forward at an incredible pace towards the circle.

The last image she saw was a horrible face, pale and skeletal, with sunken, sullen skin stretched over sharp, jagged bones, and scarlet slits for eyes, and a horrifying, sickening smile. 

There was a flash, and a momentary agony like a jolt of electricity, and then all faded around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I'd like to say three things; one, I'm sorry this chapter took a lot longer than usual.
> 
> Two, thank you so much for all your comments and kudos - it means the absolute world to me that people are reading and enjoying my story and I adore hearing from all of you.
> 
> Thirdly, I'm afraid that the times of publishing new chapters may become more irregular. I'm applying to university at the moment and it's going to be a very stressful and time-consuming few weeks. I'm sorry if it does take me longer to get out new chapters.
> 
> Best wishes,
> 
> Jo x


	26. The First Time

Hermione’s consciousness returned by degrees; first, an awareness of her body; then, the noises, fuzzing like static but with gradually increasing clarity; then her vision, blurring into focus.

Within a few moments Hermione was somewhat aware of where she was, her memories flooding back all at once. She blinked, looking up. She was lying on the ground, though her head was propped up, and Remus was leaning over her. She’d never seen him looking more worried.

She was a little way away from the lake. Remus had presumably dragged her away from the water. She realised her head was in his lap, his hands lightly gripping her arms.

His concerned expression twisted into one of surprise as she pushed herself upright, her eyes level with his. Oddly, she felt completely fine.

He was eyeing her silently, clearly lost for words.

‘How long was I out?’ she asked quietly.

His eyes darted to the water, and back to hers. 

‘About a minute.’

She nodded slowly.

‘How much do you… remember?’

She breathed. ‘I remember getting really hot, feeling… awful,’ she said, swallowing. ‘And I remember lifting the water to my face and then… I don’t know what happened.’

He nodded, in apparently contemplation. ‘We need to get you back to the inn.’

It was the best idea she’d heard all day. She stood – Remus needlessly helping her to her feet – and went towards the path through the forest, not looking back once at the lake.

‘Woah, there,’ Remus exclaimed, grasping her shoulders. She turned to look at him.

‘I’m not letting you walk the whole way back. Not after passing out.’

Hermione stared around the clearing, as though she expected a horse-drawn carriage to appear out of nowhere.

‘Can you apparate us back?’

Remus looked uneasy.

‘Unless you’re very well acquainted with apparition, it feels, well, bloody awful at the best of times.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘Looks like we’re walking, then.’

Remus shook his head. ‘I’ll walk.’

Before Hermione could ask what he meant he had stooped low and wrapped an arm round her knees, his other arm supporting her back as he scooped her up effortlessly.

Hermione was at a loss for words, so she did not protest.

Remus did not appear bothered by the weight of her as he made his way through the forest, though occasionally grunting after tripping over a tree root, or kicking the earth underneath his feet. Hermione, mildly embarrassed but in a state of utter delight, mostly held her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to look into his.

After a while she noticed he’d slowed his pace slightly.

‘You okay?’ she mumbled.

He nodded.

‘Of course. I’m very strong, I’ll have you know.’

Hermione snorted.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he said, eyeing her sternly.

‘No, of course. You’re very strong,’ she said, smirking.

‘If anything, you’re a little…’

Hermione glared at him.

‘I’m a little what?’

Remus’s eyes darted to her mischievously.

‘Nothing.’

‘No, go on. Say it.’

‘Hermione, you’re as light as a feather,’ he said, grinning.

It wasn’t long until Remus reached the outskirts of the forest at the edge of Silverlake village. It was quiet, sleepy. Hermione wondered idly how late it was.

‘I better put you down here, if that’s alright,’ Remus mumbled. ‘I’d carry you in and upstairs, but we’d probably get funny looks.’

‘It’s fine. You didn’t have to carry me at all,’ Hermione said, as Remus let her down gently.

‘It would’ve rested heavy on my conscience if I hadn’t, all the same. Now, let’s get you inside.’

Hermione nodded, smiling at the man and following him through the village and into The Black Dog.

♦ ♦ ♦

Luckily the inn had been quiet on the Sunday. They tiptoed upstairs, hoping to remain relatively unnoticed as they got their rooms.

Hermione unthinkingly followed Remus into his room rather than into her own. He didn’t complain; instead, he encouraged her to sit on the bed as he went to put the kettle on.

She watched him quietly as he fumbled with the cups and teabags. As he watched the tea brew, he looked up, his face low with tiredness and concern.

‘Feel like talking about what happened?’ he said, stirring the liquid with a teaspoon so carefully it didn’t make a sound.

Hermione fidgeted, gathering her feet and sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bed. She’d shrugged off her coat and thrown it on the floor, and kicked off her shoes alongside it.

‘Why do you assume there’s anything to talk about?’

Remus almost snorted, though not derisively or in amusement, but knowingly.

‘I know when there’s something on your mind.’

‘Werewolf superpowers?’ Hermione asked sarcastically.

Remus shot her a look as he passed the cup to her carefully.

‘No. A simple matter of friendship.’

‘We’re friends, are we?’ Hermione said, cocking an eyebrow.

Remus looked as though he’d reddened, but the light was low in his room, and Hermione wasn’t sure.

‘Are we not?’

Hermione looked into her cup. ‘We’re friendly,’ she mumbled.

Remus perched alongside her, and she edged across to accommodate him as he too crossed his legs on the bed.

‘Just friendly?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Hermione said, quite honestly.

Remus hummed.

‘So.’

He didn’t need to say anymore – Hermione knew what he was going to ask. She sighed, and began to tell him about the nausea, that horrible, foreboding feeling and, after much procrastination, the vision. Remus watched her quietly and carefully as she spoke, mindful not to overreact. The scene she’d seen, the voices, with the man and the statue entrapping Harry, and the boxes, and the cloaked figures. How she’d lunged forward irresistibly, and that horrible agony. She spoke for what felt like a long time. After all of it, Remus had nodded, looking into his empty cup, running his finger along the rim as he appeared to contemplate what she’d said.

He didn’t respond at first. She began to drive herself crazy. The man she’d seen had been You-Know-Who, she was sure of it. But with a body, a perfectly restored body. And it had undoubtedly been Harry there. It had looked so real.

Hermione was mildly shocked when Remus finally spoke.

‘You said the body did not feel like your own?’ he said.

Hermione blinked at him.

‘Well, no.’

‘What did it feel like?’

It was a strange question, and Hermione had trouble answering it.

‘Well… bigger. Heavier.’

‘Like a man’s?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No. Bigger somehow. Maybe Hagrid’s size.’

‘You think you saw the vision through Hagrid’s eyes?’ Remus said, looking unconvinced.

Hermione chewed her lip and put her empty teacup on the floor.

‘It didn’t feel… normal, somehow. It definitely wasn’t my own body. And… I don’t know. I think I was taller, stronger. Maybe it was Hagrid. I don’t know.’

Remus stared at her. ‘You say you felt as though you were with someone.’

She nodded. ‘Someone was next to me, but… I didn’t feel compelled to look around.’

‘You didn’t have control, then.’

‘No. It was like a dream. You know… sometimes your waking mind can interject, but can’t will the dream to obey…’ Hermione took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it was just a dream.’

Remus studied her. ‘We’ll tell Dumbledore when we get back. This… this doesn’t sound like just a dream. It could’ve been, but…’ he sighed. ‘With the rumours about the lake being this bloody magical pool filled with God-knows-what… I don’t know, maybe there’s some truth to it. And maybe this was more than just a nightmare.’

Hermione felt a little ill. Without thinking, she shifted further onto the bed, resting her back against the pillow and stretching her legs out.

Remus smirked. ‘This isn’t your bed, you know.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘Of course not.’

Her heart picked up the pace as she watched him follow suit and join her side, kicking off his shoes and socks and shrugging off his robes. 

Hermione would’ve thought she’d have been a quivering mess, lying on that bed next to her professor, the low light and the late hours, the twinkling sky outside and the quiet of the inn. But, in all honesty, she’d never felt so content. 

They talked for hours – the clock ticked away and struck one in the morning. Hermione wasn’t as tired as she thought she’d be.

A little silence fell upon them for a second, and Remus considered her, his eyes falling from her eyes to her lips, and back to her eyes again.

‘You look a lot more relaxed, now,’ he said softly.

‘I am,’ she said, a smile playing on her lips. He matched it, though after a few moments he glanced away.

Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him. His dark blonde hair was tousled, and too long right now, and he needed to shave, but God he was beautiful. His tired blue eyes and thin, fair face and his lips, twitched into a smile that hadn’t since left his face – those she found herself irresistibly drawn to.

She didn’t think. 

She didn’t lunge forward, but leaned into him – gently, slowly. His head lifted as her lips met his. Her eyes fluttered closed, as did his.

It was a tame meeting at first. His lips were soft against hers and she revelled in the way he drew a breath and then returned to her, and suddenly a hand was on her waist, his fingers grasping her clothes as he pressed harder, more urgently than before. She drew a breath and lifted a hand to his chest, running her fingers down his shirt, feeling as much as she could of him, gripping the material as she contemplated ripping it off.

He was kissing her harder and she melted into him, his tongue in her mouth, his hand winding around her back to drag her closer to him until her body was pressed against his. 

She couldn’t take it anymore. She thrust her hand downwards, gripping his dick, and she felt herself grow hotter and wetter as he groaned into her mouth at her touch, his hips rocking against her grasp.

Without a moment’s hesitation she lifted her hands to the waist of his trousers and dragged them off of him, fumbling slightly as she did so, too thrilled to be steady, the utter exhilaration overpowering. She felt herself moisten as her fingers ran across his erection, pulling off his trousers completely and throwing them onto the carpet, and he helped her yank off his own shirt, tossing it aside, his eyes wide and dark and intense.

She went to pull off his briefs but he grabbed her wrists before she could. She gazed up at him, her heart frozen.

‘I can’t help but notice,’ he said, his voice low and breathy, ‘you’re wearing quite a lot of clothes.’

She didn’t protest as he pushed her backwards into the bed, holding her down by the arms, gently but firmly, and straddled her, his pelvis pressed against hers. His hands traced her forearms, her biceps, then fell to her breasts before he pulled her sweater over her head. She rocked her hips unwittingly, soft moans escaping her lips, as he wrestled with her jeans, the touch of his hands clambering about her waist and her thighs utterly sublime. She arched her back as he wound his hands underneath her to unclasp her bra, tugging it off and casting it aside, earning a shudder of delight as her entire body quivered. 

His hands fell to her knickers and he almost ripped them off of her. Suddenly, she felt incredibly vulnerable, and incredibly naked. He’d stopped, his eyes tracing the length of her body, his hands at his own sides, and it was far too much to bare. 

She sat upright and dragged his briefs off him, her mouth falling open a little as she tugged the material over his dick, her lips moistening. 

They didn’t have a lot of time to simply stare at one another before Remus had taken control once again and pushed her into the bed, his body on top of her this time, his tongue in her mouth, his hands wildly roaming over every inch of her body, chuckling as she moaned and sighed, and smirking as her face fell when he drew away from her.

‘Don’t worry,’ he mumbled, and buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking and biting, his teeth nipping and sinking into her skin, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make her groan with pleasure. He descended, pecking her collarbone, and paused at her breasts, licking and biting her left as he cupped her right, his nails and teeth burying into her flesh. His lips abseiled the length of her body, lightly kissing her stomach and still stroking her breasts.

She cried out as his tongue ran right across her folds, licking her agonisingly slowly, moaning as she throbbed and quivered and flushed with heat. She almost screamed as he pushed his tongue deeper inside her, lifting her hands to clasp her mouth to stop herself from waking up the entire inn. He’d widened her hips, opened her legs as far as they’d go, and both his hands were gripping her thighs, keeping her steady as he sunk himself into her. She sunk her teeth into her hands as he ran his tongue along her lips and against her clit, moaning and shaking and throbbing uncontrollably, until a wave of pure pleasure overcame her entire body, rippling through each inch of her, drenched with sweat. 

She could hear him breathing heavily and she opened her eyes to see him properly now. He was kneeling between her legs, still hard, one hand running through his hair, the other at his groin, his chest heaving as he stared at her, flushed from neck to navel.

Then he climbed over her legs and arms until he was directly on top of her, his eyes staring into hers as he gently pressed his dick inside of her. She groaned, her eyes fluttering shut once again, and she heard him moan as he pressed his head into her neck, beginning to rock his hips into small, gentle thrusts, each time pushing himself deeper inside her, slowly and deliberately. 

‘Are you okay?’ she heard him breathe into her neck.

She could only muster a moan, and he chuckled a response.

‘Say you’re okay,’ he said, a little louder.

She couldn’t; she was too overcome, too overwhelmed, and was enjoying the feeling of his body pressing and rubbing against hers too much, the sensation of him being so deeply and intimately inside of her far too wonderful.

‘’Mione,’ he groaned, and she quivered with delight at the sound of her name. ‘Are you enjoying this?’

The sound of those words were too much and she repressed the desire to scream out his name, her arms winding round his back and her nails pressing gently into his shoulders.

He lifted his face from her neck, and she felt his breath on her face. She opened her eyes and he pressed his lips against hers, and she sighed into him.

He drew back, and looked at her. ‘Tell me you’re enjoying this,’ he said, his lips twitched into a smile.

‘I’m – enjoying – this,’ she managed to say, breathlessly and weakly.

He thrust himself harder into her and she cried out.

‘Fuck!’ she shouted, arching her hips as he rocked into her in perfect unison.

He laughed, biting his lip as he smiled at her. ‘What – was that?’ 

‘Fuck me,’ she groaned, and she wound her legs around him, in an attempt to fill herself with every inch of him.

He obeyed; he went faster, burying himself inside of her hard and rough. She was unbelievably hot, and wet, and throbbing again, her clit pulsing, her thighs quivering against him, and she knew she was close; she could sense, somehow, he was too.

That little smirk had since left his face. He gazed into her eyes as he entered her again, earning a small moan, and he cocked an eyebrow.

‘You ready?’ he breathed, his voice husky again.

She nodded a little, and before she knew it she was once again overcome with pleasure; she hadn’t the time to lift her hands to her mouth, and she was screaming uncontrollably, every sensation overwhelmingly ecstatic; she could hear him too, over the sound of her own cries, groaning and sighing her name, swearing and moaning, breathy and weak.

He fell at her side, his chest heaving. She was exhausted. She looked at him, and without much thought she rubbed her naked thighs, still as sensitive and receptive as she had been since his lips had met hers.

He eyed her for a moment before sitting upright, leaning to grab the covers they’d kicked to the foot of the bed, then wrapped his legs and arms around her and dragged her close into him, dragging the blankets across the both of them. 

She’d never felt so warm and safe and wonderful in her entire life. She felt him peck her forehead and she nestled into his chest, leaning into him and sighing contently before drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait......


	27. The Next Day

It was a mingling of noises that awoke Hermione the following day; the birds outside, singing their serenade; the laughter and conversation of the village people in the bar a few floors below; and the gentle snore of the man against her, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath.

She awoke slowly at first, still somewhere between the landscape of her dreams and the waking world. Her eyes opened, and a thousand images and sensations flooded her mind. A smile stretched across her face and she bit down the urge to laugh with pure joy – the sight of the man in front of her, with whom her limbs were intimately entwined, was wonderfully overwhelming.

She tried not to move or stir, for fear of waking up Remus prematurely. She moved her head backwards a little, in attempt to view him with greater clarity. He looked glorious; utterly content.

It was either the same noises that awoke Hermione, or her sudden movement that woke Remus. His eyes fluttered open, and, lifting a hand to wipe the dust from his eyes and his hair from his face, he smiled at her warmly.

‘Morning,’ he said quietly.

‘Morning.’

They laid there in silence for a while, contemplating each other, and their next move. It was Remus who settled on a decision first. With a slight sigh he pushed himself out of the bed, exiting from his side. She watched him as he tugged on his briefs she’d torn off of him the night before with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, her face reddening.

Though, the wonderful feeling of pure pleasure she’d awoken to begun to slowly deteriorate. Remus was quiet. Admittedly, so was she, but Remus appeared to be lost in some serious thought. His features had hardened since he’d awoken – the soft, gentle smile he’d greeted her with had disappeared.

He walked across the room towards the kettle, where he began to fumble with the cups and water and milk exactly as he had done so the night before. She stared at him. He was stood in only his underwear, leaning heavily against the surface, his arms crossed lazily across his chest, his eyes on the floor.

Hermione began to feel not so good.

It had been her first time. Why, it’d practically been her first kiss. She’d pecked Ron on the cheek before, and admittedly there had been one or two times where she’d considered kissing him the way she’d kissed Remus, but she’d never followed through on the urge to do so.

No, last night had been a night of many firsts. And it had been a fantastic night, at that. She did feel a little sore, but it was hardly noticeable – Remus had taken good care of her, she mused, a small smirk finding its way onto her lips at the thought.

Though now Remus looked horribly serious. She dreaded to think what was on his mind.

Regret?

That would possibly hurt the most. Rationally, she’d understand if he did regret it. He was much older. He was her teacher. He’d been at the receiving end of harsh criticism from his best friend for simply spending time with her. Harry was uncomfortable with their relationship – one of her own closest friends. Ron would never accept it. Ginny would likely support them in theory – but in reality? Hermione had a sickly feeling she’d deeply disapprove.

At least Draco would be pleased, she thought bitterly.

The kettle began to squeal as it boiled and Remus took the heat off, pouring out enough for two cups. She sat upright, adjusting her pillow so it cushioned her back, and drew the covers to conceal her chest, suddenly feeling rather exposed. Remus wordlessly approached her and passed her the tea, which she took with a quiet thanks. She began to take small sips, burning her tongue a little.

Remus stood alongside the bed for a moment before growing visibly uncomfortable. He walked to his side and returned, though sat on top of the covers.

Hermione’s eyes skimmed the length of his mostly naked body with glee, though she couldn’t help but focus on his face. He still looked solemn.

‘Are you going to say anything?’ she said finally, when his silence became too much.

He pursed his lips.

‘Are you?’ he replied, not looking at her.

She scowled. 

‘Don’t be childish. That’s not an answer.’

‘Of course it is. Don’t condemn me for my silence when you’re saying no more than I am.’

She sighed heavily, and put the teacup down on the bedside table.

‘Fine,’ she said, crossing her arms over the covers. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Nothing. What’s on your mind?’ he said.

She could have strangled him.

‘Oh, come on. You’re clearly driving yourself crazy with whatever internal conflict you’re dealing with now, as per usual.’

Remus looked slightly offended, and he narrowed his eyes at his teacup.

‘I’m just having some difficulty… formulating my thoughts, and articulating them into words.’

Hermione bit her lip. She took a risk, and lifted her hand to delicately plant on his shoulder. He glanced up, still not quite meeting her eyes.

‘Let me help, then.’

Remus took a deep breath and nodded.

‘I think we should talk about what happened last night.’

‘I do remember,’ Hermione said, her tone a little more sarcastic than she planned.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. ‘I should hope so. It’s just that… well…’

Hermione could tell by his expression what he was going to stay, and she stopped him.

‘If you’re going to say you feel like you took advantage of me, or exploited me, then you can stop right there. Because you didn’t. I remember what happened. I initiated it. I wanted last night to happen,’ she looked away from him, staring at her feet. ‘I’ve wanted it to happen for a while now.’

Remus hummed. ‘I thought as much.’

Hermione laughed, albeit a little sheepishly. ‘Have I been that obvious?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Well, a little. But… I tend to pick up on these things better than most.’

‘Oh, yes. Your superhuman hearing thing.’

He sighed. ‘It’s just that I… I feel the same way. Obviously,’ he laughed, glancing down at himself. ‘I have done for some time. In fact, I… I first noticed it when I first saw you this year. On the train. I don’t know, it’s some kind of… pull. I tried to ignore it and repress it and rationalise it and I almost managed to convince myself I didn’t think of you in that way but…’ he sighed again. ‘Here we are.’

‘Is it so bad?’ she said quietly. 

He looked up, and met her eyes finally.

‘It’s wonderful,’ he said, smiling warmly at her, his eyes sparkling. ‘But… but I don’t know if it can… continue. While we’re at Hogwarts and even after you graduate – it would raise questions…’

‘Not if people don’t find out.’

He cocked an eyebrow.

‘Miss Granger,’ he said, smirking. ‘Are you suggesting what I think you are?’

She shook her head, rolling her eyes.

‘Listen. It wouldn’t be impossible. We’d just have to time it right, and be very careful… I mean, we’re probably the two smartest people in the castle. It wouldn’t be too difficult.’

Remus snorted. ‘I’d say we’re in the top ten,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Smart or not, this… it would be an affair. Between a student and a teacher. These things don’t go unnoticed. We’d need a miracle to get away with it. Not to mention the fact that Hogwarts has tightened up on its security,’ he sighed, rubbing his temples.

She studied him for a moment.

‘You seem…’

‘What?’

‘It’s just… I thought that you’d be more… guilty,’ she said lamely.

‘Should I be guilty?’ he asked, his lips thin.

‘Of course not. Logically, to be guilty you’d needed to have done something you shouldn’t have.’

‘Like bedding a student of mine, half my age?’ he said, grimacing. 

She shrugged. 

‘I’m teasing,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I know what you mean, Hermione. And I agree. Hypothetically, I’d always assumed I’d hate myself if we ever… consummated our relationship. I always told myself I’d regret it and it’d be wrong and deeply immoral of me… but…’

‘You don’t think that?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t quite know how I feel. But… certainly not regretful.’

Hermione sighed with relief, and he offered her a small smile before continuing.

‘I think it’s because… I’d have felt ashamed if I’d have used you solely for… well… what happened. Because of… uh…’ he cleared his throat. ‘Primal urges, and what not.’

She snorted, and he glared at her.

‘Anyway,’ he said, frowning, ‘this will sound utterly ridiculous, but… I don’t know. My feelings for you run so much deeper than that. There’s nothing I’d hate more than to end this.’

Hermione nodded slowly. ‘So I suppose it’s just left for us to decide what to do next.’

‘I suppose.’

Hermione gazed at him, and then her eyes darted towards the en-suite.

‘We can enjoy the rest of this weekend we have together,’ Remus said slyly, smirking. Hermione let out a laugh as he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her fully, and, clasping her hand in his, encouraged her out of the bed and into the bathroom.

Remus wandlessly switched on the shower with a wave of his hand and a gentle stream of hot water cascaded from the shower head and onto the both of them. Hermione was still fully undressed, and she’d already dragged off Remus’s underwear again; she shuddered as the water ran down her back and trickled down her face, and as Remus pressed her into the cream tiled wall behind her, cold and hard against her back. As he kissed her he ran both his hands through her hair, his fingers tangled in her curls; he ground himself against her, her body sandwiched between him and the wall. She felt his cock harden against her pelvis and she lifted her hips invitingly, her nails digging into his back.

He ignored her invitation and instead let a hand fall from her hair and slip between the two of them. He ran his fingers gently across her lips, lightly teasing her clit, chuckling as she gasped into his mouth in surprise and pleasure, and with care slipped a single finger inside of her. She moaned as he entered her and, at her invitation, slipped in another, circling her clit with his thumb in agonisingly slow, light rotations. 

The both of them were drenched now; the bathroom had filled with a thin grey mist, and Hermione was almost too hot – her eyes fluttered open as Remus bit down on her lips and she cried out, laughing as he laughed, and she realised his eyes had opened too, his gentle gaze weakening her knees and making her heart thud in her chest. Through the steam she made out their reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room and an incredible hot lust overwhelmed her at the sight of them, naked and pressed up against each other.

Remus was expertly moving his fingers inside her, gently pulling them in and out in slow, prolonged strokes; she realised, through her daze, he was doing most of the work, teasing her and drawing out her orgasm slowly, far too slowly – he was enjoying being so in control of her body. She ended their kiss, drew her hands from behind his back and brought them down to his front, putting a little space in between the two of their bodies so she could grab his cock. She delighted in his sudden groan at her touch; she began gently, her thumb stroking his head, using his precum to wet the rest of him. She then gently cupped her hand and ran her grasp up and down his shaft, and used the other hand to stroke his balls; he’d stopped moving his hands so expertly around her, and instead had fallen into clumsy, harder thrusts, groaning as she tightened her grip around him. She tried to meet his eyes but they’d tightened shut, his breaths growing louder and faster. Occasionally she heard him moan her name through his breathing and groaning. 

He came over her hands and thighs and the hot water washed it from her, and shortly after was crying and shouting his name as rippling waves of pleasure flooded her body. She let out a final moan as he pulled his fingers out from inside of her and closed the space between them, meeting her in a gentle kiss, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace.

They stood in the shower for a while, though Hermione’s legs had grown weak with the overwhelming pleasure from before. Remus perhaps felt the same way, or sensed her fatigue somehow – he drew back from their kiss gently, and met her eyes.

‘How about you run a bath,’ he said quietly, ‘while I go and make us something to eat?’

She nodded and smiled, though as he left her, wrapping a towel around his waist and disappearing out the door, she felt rather cold, and quite alone. Shrugging this sudden feeling off she headed towards the empty bath tub, plugged it, and switched on both taps. After rummaging about in the cabinet she found a couple of bottles filled with some iridescent liquid, thick and delicately fragrant. She perched on the edge and poured in a generous dose of each into the bathwater, and watched as it bubbled, mountains of blue and purple and pink foam rising as the water did. 

A little while later, when the bath was brimming, she stopped the taps and tested the temperature with her hands – and, gently, entered the water and sat amongst the steam and the bubbles. A few moments afterward the door opened and a rather damp Remus entered, towel tied loosely around his hips, balancing plates of food in his hands.

Hermione chuckled at him as he cast a levitation charm and the plates hovered in the air alongside the tub, though she stopped giggling when he dropped the towel from his waist and dipped into the bath opposite her. The water rose a little and some dripped over the edge.

They must’ve woken late – or maybe the time had raced past faster than she thought while they were enjoying their shower – because Remus lazily informed her it was past midday. Hermione didn’t doubt this. She didn’t realise how hungry she was until she’d helped herself to the biscuits and sandwiches and other little things Remus had prepared for them both.

‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked him. They had both outstretched their legs under the water, their thighs and knees knocking against each other every so often.

He beamed. 

‘Oh, awful,’ he said, smirking. ‘Utterly horrible, in fact.’

‘You do look it.’

‘Certainly. Why, last night was terrible. And lying in ‘til noon today, well, that’s never nice, is it?’

‘And that shower,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Painfully dull.’

‘And this is just terrible, isn’t it?’ she said, giggling and kicking his chest lightly under the water. He chuckled.

‘I’m hating every second of it.’

He was smiling at her warmly, and after they ate and spoke for a while, he manoeuvred the both of them so she was sat with her back against his chest, perched against his lap, his legs wrapped around her. She bit down her smile as she felt him harden again against her, though he mostly ignored it – he’d summoned the bottles of shampoo and conditioner and oils from the cabinet and was pouring the liquid over her head and running his hands through her hair, gently massaging her scalp, earning the occasional groan if one so happened to escape her lips.

It took Remus a fraction of the time to wash his own hair. Hermione’s, as usual, took an eternity. But he seemed to be utterly content with her leaning against him, his hands running from the tip of her head right down the crease of her back. Hermione was absolutely fine with it, too. Every so often he’d misbehave, his hands deviating from her hair and winding round her chest, grabbing her breasts or sinking down underneath the water, between her thighs. Though she didn’t exactly complain, moaning and letting her head fall back against his shoulder as he fingered her, kissing and nibbling her neck all the while.

Hermione had lost track of time but she figured they must’ve sat in the bath for a long time. She eventually came to the realisation all the bubbles had gone and they were submerged in lukewarm water, heated only by their bodies. 

‘We better get out,’ he muttered from behind, though he sounded reluctant. 

‘Do we have to?’ she sighed.

‘I suppose we could sleep here,’ he replied, ‘though the bed might be comfier.’

They helped each other out of the water and left the bathroom drenched and in disarray, but neither of them could care. Remus’s arm was draped around her naked shoulders as they entered the main room, and he tossed her a couple of towels to dry herself off with, tying one around his hips.

They sat on the edge of the bed, Remus simply watching her with a slight smile as she towelled herself dry. She caught his eye, and pursed her lips, furrowing her brows.

‘What’re you laughing at?’ she said sternly.

‘You look a little bit like a lion,’ he mused, toying with her hair; it had curled wildly, ringlets framing her face, heavy waves bouncing off her bare shoulders, sitting just above her breasts. He gazed at her amusedly.

‘Shut up.’

‘It’s cute.’

‘I am not cute.’

He snorted. ‘No, of course not.’

For what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty four hours, she felt herself moisten between her legs again as he tugged at the towel, exposing her body for him to see.

‘What’re you doing?’ she said, raising an eyebrow. She couldn’t believe he had enough energy to go again.

‘Simply admiring.’

Her face flushed and she stared at the floor. She’d been ridiculously intimate with him over the last day, but having him simply gaze at her wordlessly, his eyes tracing every inch of her body… this felt intimate in an entirely new way.

‘You’re perfect,’ he said, quite matter-of-factly. 

‘Shut up.’

‘But you are,’ he insisted. ‘All this,’ he said, gently combing his long fingers through her hair. ‘And your long slender neck… your shoulders, your arms…’

As he spoke he ran his hands over every part of her, and she shivered against his touch.

‘And these,’ he said, circling her nipples with his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered and she tightened her thighs together, suddenly very turned on again.

He chuckled and she felt her face redden even more. ‘And your perfect stomach… your tiny little waist, and your hips…’

Suddenly, he’d moved from the bed and knelt at her feet, his face level with her navel. Hermione felt yet another wave of desire unfurl and she closed her thighs even tighter. He smirked.

‘And, of course, you have perfect legs… but, oh, I think we’re forgetting something…’

And then his hands had clasped her inner thighs and he pushed her legs apart, and she obediently fell back onto the bed – her head had barely reached the mattress before he’d thrust his tongue inside of her.

She came almost embarrassingly quickly and after she’d screamed out his name, amidst all kinds of dirty words, he leant back onto his knees and laughed at her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

‘God, you’re easy,’ he said, shaking his head.

She must have been flushed from head to toe, soaked in sweat and still damp from her bath. She bit down her smile and narrowed her eyes at him.

‘You know, we’re still forgetting something,’ she said, pushing herself upright, though still dazed and dizzy with pleasure.

‘What’s that?’ he said, one eyebrow cocked.

‘Well,’ she said, not bothering to pull another towel over herself – she knew he’d only drag it off her again. He’d stood and had sat alongside her on the edge of the bed again, grinning at her wolfishly. 

‘Mm?’

‘We’ve not talked about you at all,’ she said, chewing her lip.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘We don’t have to.’

‘Oh, yes we do,’ she assured him. 

‘No…’

‘But what about all this?’ she teased, pulling a fistful of his hair. 

‘Ow! You little-’

He’d frowned, but his face softened as she hooked herself over him, straddling his hips.

She smirked. ‘And your lovely broad shoulders…’ she drawled, massaging them lightly. ‘And your arms, and your chest…’ 

‘Yeah, alright, we get it,’ he said, his face deeply blushed.

She grinned. ‘And your legs, obviously, and, oh, we’re forgetting something, aren’t we?’

He blinked at her in surprise as she leapt down from the bed and knelt opposite him just as he had done so only minutes before.

‘Oh, Hermione, you really don’t have to do that,’ he said, his voice and face filled with nerves and anticipation.

‘I want to.’

He gazed at her wordlessly as she pushed open his legs and, without hesitation, wrapped her lips against the head of his cock, her tongue flicking the end. She began to suck him, dragging his hips closer to her as she took as much of she could of him in her mouth. He was groaning audibly, his pelvis rocking as she sucked him and ran her tongue up and down his length, her fingers stroking his balls and his thighs.

‘Fuck – Hermione – fuck!’

God, she loved it when she had him. He was older, he’d done this before, and when he fucked her he knew exactly what he was doing to her, how good he was making her feel. She bet that made him feel bloody fantastic. She loved it when she got her own back, having him under her control, making him feel as good as she did.

She pushed him deeper inside her mouth until he was practically in her throat, and she breathed carefully, desperate to fill herself with him; it wasn’t long until he’d collapsed back onto the bed as she had done, practically screaming, writhing in pure ecstasy; he came inside her mouth, and with but a second’s hesitation she swallowed the hot mess. 

She climbed on top of the bed next to him, and with some effort he managed to drag himself onto the mattress properly, his head on the pillow and his body under the covers. She joined him, and he dragged her so he was spooning her, pulling her back to his chest, cupping her breasts.

They were both utterly exhausted, hot and sweaty and filled with the aftermath of intense pleasure and unrivalled fatigue; Hermione fell asleep to the sensation of his warm breath against her neck.


	28. The Journey Back

Hermione woke to an empty bed.

She was momentarily flummoxed, but as she woke from her dreamy state, the smell of toast and something frying filled her head, and she realised Remus was awake and wandering about the room, singing cheerfully to himself.

She laid there for a while, listening to him. He had quite a lovely singing voice. She’d had no idea.

But there was no point in pretending to be asleep. He was apparently so attuned to her he was soon aware she was awake, and he appeared next to the bed a few moments later. 

‘Morning, love,’ he sang, beaming at her as he placed a cup of tea and a plate of toast and bacon on the bedside table. She blinked at him.

‘You look… well.’

‘I feel it, Hermione,’ he said, smiling widely at her. 

‘Wait, wasn’t it…’

‘The full moon last night, yes. Yes it was.’

She raised an eyebrow, sitting up to eat and drink, not bothered about the fact her breasts were exposed. His eyes lingered on her chest for a while before he spoke again.

‘Hermione, I didn’t wake up. I didn’t feel a thing. I’m pretty sure I transformed – well, I must’ve done – but, honestly, there’s no signs, nothing to suggest anything happened last night.’

‘Don’t you feel… achy? Tired?’

He shrugged, grinning mischievously. ‘Well, yes. But not because of the transformation,’ he said, winking at her.

She flushed and shook her head, sipping her tea.

‘I feel fantastic. I haven’t felt this good in years. Well, apart from yesterday, but strictly in terms of post-transformation…’

He rambled on for quite a long time, perching at the end of the bed and talking endlessly, smiling all the while. She giggled at him behind her teacup. It filled her with such delight to see him so happy – but she was far too perplexed to completely share his joy. Her mind was plagued with confusion and questions. Why had the full moon not woken him? Again? 

The whole point of the weekend was to measure whether her immediate presence would affect the transformation in this way – and it had. Their hypothesis was correct. For some reason, some unknown, bizarre reason, Hermione’s intimacy with Remus completely overruled any kind of pain caused by the change, to the point transforming into his massive wolf form hadn’t woken either of them from their slumber.

And then there was the fact that this simply couldn’t continue, and Hermione’s heart sunk low in her chest.

Remus stopped mid-sentence to study her.

‘What’s wrong?’ 

She shook her head. ‘It’s just… today is the last day we have. Tomorrow… everything has to go back to the way it was. Except we won’t be able to talk, or see each other outside of lesson.’

Remus gazed at her sadly. ‘I’m trying not to dwell on that fact.’

‘But why is it fact?’ Hermione said, putting down her drink and plate and standing to start dressing. The thought crossed her mind that she hadn’t worn clothes in over a day.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why does it have to be a fact? Why can’t it just be a possibility? Just like it’s a possibility we could keep this up?’

Remus chewed his lips. ‘Hermione, we had to meet via fireplace at one in the morning just to talk about coming here. We can hardly expect to meet in my rooms and… you know.’

She blushed, fastening her bra. Remus stood and helped her tug on her shirt as she pulled it over her head.

‘There are means.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Well… what if we talked to Dumbledore?’

Remus barked out a laugh so loud it almost made her jump.

‘And tell him what, exactly?’

‘Well, that we’ve worked out how to ease your transformations…’

Remus sniggered. ‘Yes, sterling plan, Hermione. Albus, I completely betrayed your trust by whisking my student away on a romantic weekend, had sex with her repeatedly, and then we slept together, and I didn’t get the normal aches and pains I usually do! So, please let me continue this ridiculously inappropriate affair, if you don’t mind.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘It’s true though, isn’t it? And it’s not just aches and pains. You’ve gone through agony for thirty odd years.’

‘Oh, God, don’t say that, you make me feel old,’ Remus groaned, grimacing. 

She frowned at him, and he sighed.

‘You’re right. These last two full moons have been the best of my life. And that night you stayed over, well… it was bad, but nothing compared to the usual.’

‘So?’

He shook his head. ‘We can’t tell Albus. I’m sorry. I just can’t.’

She sighed and nodded. Considering it herself, she couldn’t help but secretly agree. She couldn’t imagine the headmasters’ reaction.

‘Then what about… keeping it on the down low?’

Remus raised his eyebrows, looking rather unconvinced.

‘We have the Marauders’ Map, courtesy of you,’ she said, smirking as he pulled a rather embarrassed expression. ‘And the invisibility cloak. I’d just have to get used to all the timings, figure out what charms McGonagall puts on the doors…’

‘Hermione, Hermione,’ Remus said, shaking his head. ‘Harry has the Marauders’ Map. Harry has the invisibility cloak. McGonagall is one of the most powerful, experienced members of staff in the school, and the rest of the staff is watching the entirety of Hogwarts like a hawk. You’d have to tell Harry about us – or, steal his most precious possessions without him noticing, or spin some elaborate tale – risk everything just trying to escape the common room, and then navigate half the castle completely undetected.’

Hermione sighed. He had a point.

‘And even if you got those items,’ he continued. ‘Would you… tell Harry?’

She shook her head. ‘Probably not. He wasn’t… comfortable, about us.’

Remus looked solemn. ‘And I fear Sirius’s reaction more than anything.’

They pondered each other for a while. Remus lifted his hand to Hermione’s face, delicately stroking her cheek.

‘This isn’t ideal, is it?’ Hermione said, trying to laugh, but she didn’t quite have it in her.

‘No.’

Hermione gazed at the floor, trying desperately not to cry. Perhaps in response to this, Remus lifted her chin slightly, and leant forward to kiss her slowly, tamely, but quite lovingly.

They stood there for a while. When they broke, Remus looked as sad as Hermione felt. They stuffed their hands in their pockets and gazed around the room. Hermione realised he’d tidied up their mess while she was asleep; their room and bathroom was completely clean, and he’d taken the liberty of packing their bags. She desperately wanted to stay. Or maybe…

‘How about…’

‘Hmm?’

She bit her lip. ‘How about we run away together?’

Remus laughed. 

‘Hermione, that isn’t what you want.’

She sighed. No. It wasn’t. She wanted her education and she wanted a career and to go off into the rest of the wizarding world to explore and create and conquer. As tempting as it was, the idea of running off into the sunset with Remus… it wasn’t feasible.

They left the inn, thanking the woman at the bar – she looked mildly surprised to see them, as though she’d forgotten they were staying – and took the carriage back to the train station. Remus could have apparated, but the both of them wanted to savour the rest of the time they had left; Hermione rested against Remus as she had done so on their arrival, though this time she felt utterly, bitterly miserable.

When they arrived they boarded their train. It was similarly empty, and Remus had booked a first class carriage again. They entered the room and Remus locked the door behind them, drawing the curtains across the glass. Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

‘Just… because we might want to sleep at some point,’ he said innocently, shrugging and smiling sweetly.

‘Well, it is a long journey,’ she said, biting her lip as she seated herself down.

‘Painfully long. You know, if only there was something we could do to pass the time,’ Remus sighed, stretching his arms and cocking his head to the side.

They didn’t even wait for the train to set off from the station; Hermione dragged her bag and coat off her shoulders, tossing them on the cushioned seat beside her, while Remus began to kick off his shoes and socks, untying his outer robes, shrugging them onto the floor. They smiled and laughed at each other as they both stood to wriggle out of their jeans and shirts, pulling at each other’s buttons and zips, Hermione’s heart thudding louder and harder with every item of clothing she managed to tear off of him. She pulled off his briefs, Remus stepping out of them and kicking them across the floor, and tugging at her bra and knickers, his face buried in her neck, his laughter muffled as he kissed and pecked her jawline and her collarbone and her shoulders.

She found his lips and kissed him, faster than she had in the morning, more breathy and broken, more desperate. She placed her hands on his hips and pushed him gently backwards onto his seat, and he sat obediently, instinctively leaning backwards, his legs opened, his dick hard between his thighs. She straddled his hips, splitting her legs wide, kneeling on the seat, wrapping her arms round his neck and taking a moment to meet his eyes, beaming at him and laughing softly.

She gently thrust her hips forward and downward and teased his erection, Remus letting out a stifled moan as his eyes shut with the contact; finding her way, she rocked her hips back and forth, pushing him inside of her. He was big, larger than she'd expected for a slim man, and she groaned at the slight twinge of pain as she went deeper, already filled with him.

His eyes fluttered open and he gazed at her, his face flushed with pleasure but with an evident concern.

‘Don’t rush it, love,’ he said softly, and she felt his hands wind round her back, gently stroking her arse and thighs. ‘Take your time.’

She nodded, slightly embarrassed, flushing a deeper red. He smiled at her, and arched himself forward, pulling her into a kiss and an embrace, his fingers running along every inch of her back. 

She melted into his mouth, almost squealing when he nibbled on her bottom lip; she shuddered as he lightened his touch against her back, just the tips of his fingertips tracing her spine, running through her mass of hair right down to the crease of her backside, gripping her hips as he thrust his hips into her. God, that did it; she was ready now, every touch igniting a wet heat inside her, her inner thighs moist with sweat; she reclaimed her rhythm, riding him slowly and savouring every motion, her breasts pressed up against his chest, their bodies sweaty and hot as they rubbed against each other.

She came before him, her thighs weak and shaky as she whined and moaned into his mouth, her movements growing slower and more irregular; he’d been waiting, and let himself come as he felt her shudder and heard her groan. She felt him relax underneath her.

She rocked her hips back and climbed off of him. At some point the train had set off, but she hadn’t noticed until now. She was still soft and loose and wet; the vibrations of the train ran up inside her and she whined a little, the movement and the sight of Remus, naked and sweaty and spent, starting her up again. She tried to think of something else – he was probably too exhausted to go again.

He sighed and ran his hands though his hair, smiling at her warmly. ‘Shall we bother getting dressed, do you think?’

She’d rather do literally anything else than put her clothes on again.

‘That depends,’ she said, tilting her head. 

‘Hmm?’

‘Can you, uh…’ she glanced at his crotch. 

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes hooded. He looked rather tired.

‘Not for a little while,’ he said, smiling at her weakly. ‘But we’ve a good four hours. I promise I’ll make it up to you in that time.’

She nodded and instead leant her head against his shoulder, hoping he’d lie back onto the seat so she could rest on top of him for a while.

He stared at her, chewing his lip.

‘What?’

‘Well, if you want to…’ he said slowly. ‘How about you sit over in that seat there, and…’ he widened his eyes for a moment, as though to suggest something.

‘And… do what, exactly?’ she said, confusedly.

‘You know… sort yourself out.’

She blushed, blinking and beginning to stutter.

‘I, uh, you mean… just… while you… sit here?’

He nodded, smirking a little, his eyes dark with lust yet lit up with amusement.

‘I’m not… I don’t really… do that, a lot.’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘It’s not too late to start,’ he shrugged. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about his proposal. With a nervous glance at the door – she really did hope it was well and truly locked – she stood and crossed the little carriage to her seat. The room wasn’t big – she was only two paces from where Remus laid outstretched on his seat, but it was odd not having his touch on her body all of a sudden.

She sat down slowly and winced a little as the cold leather cushion met her skin. She didn’t masturbate. Not even occasionally. She’d sometimes lie in bed and touch herself a little, usually imagining it were Remus’s hands on her breasts and legs rather than her own. But she always felt too uncomfortable to properly pleasure herself in a room full of her gossipy roommates, and even more so at home.

She didn’t meet his eyes for a while. She was incredibly aware of his eyes on her. She felt safe and comfortable with him – but, at the same time, she wasn’t sure she could give a very good performance. If that was what he wanted. And if it was, she was worried and a bit embarrassed.

‘Just… do what feels right,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’

She glanced at him, and the look of him outstretched, his hands gripping his own thighs and nearing his groin, sent a sudden rush of excitement through her. She would have preferred to climb on top of him and fuck him again – but he was spent. Maybe, if she gave him what he wanted…

She took a deep breath and turned to her side, lying down on her seat, opposite Remus. She needed to widen her hips; she raised her right leg, resting it on the back of the seat, and outstretched the left onto the floor, bending her knee to stretch herself out as far as she could. 

She was very aware of herself; over the last few days she’d lost herself in Remus, confusing her own body with his in the moment. Now, though, she was conscious of every single inch of her own body with unrivalled clarity.

She leant her head back and shut her eyes, and let her right hand run down her breasts and stomach and eventually reach her groin, her fingers stroking her own clit. She moaned softly, her body still so sensitive – and, somewhat nervously, she pushed one finger inside her own pussy, arching her back involuntarily at the sensation.

Every hair on her body was on end; her nipples were hard, her toes curled and she bit down on her bottom lip, pushing her index finger inside herself as far as it would go, finding which way felt best and with what pressure; she hadn’t even realised she was gripping her own breast with her other hand, so caught up in the feeling of her own self-inflicted pleasure.

But she was never unaware of Remus’s quiet presence; she opened her eyes and braved a look at him. He’d turned to be more comfortable, and she couldn’t tell whether he was hard or not, but the look on his face told her he was very much enjoying what he was seeing – she was pulsing with pleasure, and she thrust another finger inside of her with little hesitation, not taking her eyes off Remus. 

He smirked at her, flashing his eyebrows as she pushed the second finger in, he wetted his lips and she moaned – quite unsure who had caused that.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked of all a sudden, almost infuriatingly casually. Was he acting so nonchalant on purpose, as she laid there opposite him, fucking herself for his entertainment?

‘Nothing at all,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at him, but untimely letting a soft groan escape her lips as her thumb, circling her clit, spiked a wave of pleasure through her body and made her shudder.

‘Now, that isn’t true, is it?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Come on.’

She couldn’t take it. She so desperately wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, for driving her so crazy, teasing her in this way, knowing full well what effect he had on her and what he could do to her with just one look. But she couldn’t. He had her entirely.

‘You,’ she groaned, pressing her fingers harder into herself, her chest heaving as she breathed loudly and heavily. ‘Obviously. Fucking obviously!’

She’d shut her eyes but she heard him chuckling to himself. Was he laughing at her now? 

‘And what about me?’ he asked. 

She didn’t dare look at him. She opened her eyes and stared straight up at the ceiling. If she leaned back her head a little she could see out the window, the sky already dark outside.

‘You… on top of me, inside me…’ she sighed, imagining it was his fingers inside of her.

She accidentally looked at him because she swore she’d heard him moan a little, and she wondered whether he’d joined in, half expecting to see him mirroring her, gripping his own erection in his hands in the same indignity she was in now. But he wasn’t – he’d apparently just hummed approvingly, still looking frustratingly cool and controlled.

‘Is this doing something for you?’ she gasped. 

He shrugged callously, and she wanted to glare at him, but she felt far too good to make herself frown, and she moaned instead.

He chuckled again and she rephrased the question. ‘What are you thinking about, then?’

‘Oh, Hermione,’ he said slowly, sighing her name, making her shiver. ‘What do you think?’

‘I – ah! – I think you’re an – arsehole,’ she stammered, just as the sensation of her fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy started to feel really fucking good.

He laughed out loud.

‘Now, that isn’t very nice,’ he said softly. ‘I was thinking about coming over there and fucking you senseless, but…’ he paused, to watch her quiver at his words, his eyes alit with delight, ‘but now I’m thinking about just staying here, instead.’

‘God, don’t,’ she whined, internally scolding herself for resorting to begging. ‘Please.’

She watched him purse his lips, not taking his eyes off her for a second. She wanted to stop fingering herself, to not give him the damn satisfaction – but she was close, and she was thoroughly enjoying the way he was teasing her in a bizarre, foreign way.

‘Please… do what?’ he said, furrowing his eyebrows. ‘I need you to reiterate.’

‘Fuck me,’ she moaned.

‘You forgot the please that time.’

‘Please!’ she almost yelled, but she’d been pleasuring herself for a long time now; she came suddenly and slapped her hand over her mouth as she screamed out, arching her back, her whole body tense and hot and quivering – then she relaxed, and slumped into the seat, pulling her fingers out of her folds and wiping them on her thighs.

Remus had sat himself upright, curled up on his seat, gazing at her studiously. She took a few moments to reflect, to collect her thoughts and gather herself back together after letting herself fall apart; slowly, she closed her legs and tried to push herself into a sitting position, feeling ridiculously exposed, as though the entire castle had just watched her come.

‘That,’ Remus said, sighing, ‘was really something, Hermione.’

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her bare chest. 

‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m – no. I’m embarrassed.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because I’ve just spent the last… twenty minutes or something… playing with myself for your own… entertainment. If it was even entertaining.’

He practically giggled.

‘Oh, it was. But you don’t need my approval. That was for you.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Hermione,’ he said softly, but staring at her with such intensity. ‘I think you like it when I talk to you like that.’

A shiver ran down her spine.

‘I think it turns you on, actually.’

She couldn’t deny it. She knew he’d know if she tried to lie. God, it turned her on.

‘And, uh, it was half an hour, by the way.’

Half an hour. He’d sat there and watched her, naked and writhing, for thirty minutes, seen every nook and cranny of her body. He was intimately knowledgeable of her body by now.

‘Which reminds me, actually,’ he said, his eyes wide again. ‘I made you a promise, and, um, I certainly think you’ve earned it.’

She blushed. She almost considered getting revenge, denying him herself, but she needed him.

‘I’m sorry, but I think we’re going to have to take to the floor,’ he said, standing from his seat and kicking various items of clothing out of the way. She watched him clear a space, and then glance at her.

‘Would you lie down?’ he said, pointing to the floor. She felt herself complying automatically, pushing herself from the seat. She wanted to tease him, to tell him to lie down and wank for her pleasure instead, but she was driven by her own need for him. She slumped onto the floor and opened her legs, staring up at him.

He knelt between her legs and positioned himself on top of her. 

She’d expected him to fuck her hard and fast, and, keeping to the nature of the rest of the train journey, to make fun of her, teasing her and making her beg for it. But he didn’t.

For hours, he made love to her, slowly, gently, kissing her lovingly, moaning her name. She came twice, in wonderfully long, drawn out bursts of unrivalled pleasure, finding herself lost in time, totally encompassed by the feeling of him wrapped around her, inside of her. He came himself finally – he’d looked as though he’d held onto it as long as he possibly could – and, moaning and sighing, collapsed next to her.

She turned to look at him. They were both so exhausted, and they didn’t have much time.

‘I can’t give this up, Remus,’ she said quietly. 

He stared at her, and sighed.

‘Nor can I,’ he admitted. ‘We’ll… we’ll work it out. I promise. We’ll find a way to make this work.’

She nodded. She didn’t know whether he could keep that promise, but she wanted nothing more.

They glanced at the clock. Their train was fast approaching Hogsmeade station. They groaned as they pushed themselves to stand and dress, looking decidedly scruffy as they grabbed their luggage and exited the train. 

They took a carriage back to the castle. Hermione almost fell asleep, her head on Remus’s shoulder. But she didn’t want to miss a second. 

And when they reached the gates and they were forced to exit the carriage, they braved a quick kiss, carried their things up the stairs, and – most painfully of all – parted their separate ways, Remus to his rooms and Hermione to the Gryffindor common room, a horrible lump in her chest.


	29. Back at Hogwarts

Hermione was so exhausted she fell asleep as soon as she collapsed into her bed in the common room, her roommates already deep in slumber. The next morning she was the last to rise – quite atypically – and had to rush through her morning routine to make it to breakfast in time.

The Great Hall was buzzing – it was a massive shock to the system after spending so much time in the little inn, with only Remus as company. She noticed immediately he was not sat at the staff’s table and she gulped. Dumbledore wasn’t there either.

Everyone else, however, was very much present. Harry, Ron and Ginny waved her over excitedly and she rushed to seat herself down at the Gryffindor table alongside them. Neville smiled at her, and Luna waved from the adjacent Ravenclaw table. Lavender was snuggled up against Ron again, and Ginny and Harry were very much entwined, arms linked. Hermione restrained a sigh. They had it so easy.

‘Hi, Hermione!’ everyone chimed.

‘How was the trip?’ Ginny asked, waggling her eyebrows.

She glared at her for a second before replying. ‘It was fine. We actually found evidence of a rare breed of dragon local to the area and examined some very unique species of fish.’ 

She’d rehearsed that line the whole morning. She wanted her trip to sound as utterly mundane as possible, so people wouldn’t be tempted to press her for information.

It worked. They all raised their eyebrows and nodded with fake enthusiasm, before returning to their meals.

Harry, however, nudged her and caught her eye.

‘Everything… okay?’ he asked quietly.

She knew what he was asking. He was worried about her relationship with Remus getting inappropriate. Quite rightly, too, she thought, with a pang of guilt.

She nodded. ‘Of course. Nothing to worry about,’ she lied.

He grinned and went back to his breakfast. She noticed a scrap of parchment by his plate – addressed to Sirius, and half finished. She supposed he would report back to his godfather that everything was fine between her and Remus.

She sighed, picking up some toast and dishing up a few eggs and slices of bacon and piling it onto her plate. When she happened to look up to pour herself a glass of orange juice, she caught Draco’s eye from right across the Great Hall. Or, rather, saw him waving his arms madly at her, attracting some rather unwanted attention from nearby Slytherins. 

‘Your boyfriend’s missed you,’ Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

‘He isn’t my boyfriend, Ron,’ she snapped. She looked back at Draco, who was grinning mischievously at her, and seemed to be snarling at the Slytherins that dared to look at him.

He was mouthing something at her, but she couldn’t for the life of her work out what he was trying to say. Uncomfortably aware of her Gryffindor friends eyeing her and Draco closely, she shrugged helplessly at him, shaking her head.

Then, Draco decided to do the worst thing he could possibly do. He scowled, puffed, and then, in apparently light of a new idea, beamed with pride. He stood to get a clear view of Hermione – and to give her and everybody else a good view of him – and, utterly shamelessly, made an ‘O’ shape with his index finger and thumb with one hand, and thrust a finger through the ‘O’ with the other hand repeatedly.

She stared at him in shock, and felt her face flush beetroot.

‘What is he DOING?’ Ginny cried.

Lavender raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s a symbol for-’ 

‘Yeah, I get that bit!’ Ginny said. ‘But why?’

‘I don’t want to speculate, to be honest,’ Ron said, looking nauseous. Hermione scowled at him.

‘It’s not like that. We are NOT involved in that way. He’s just being stupid.’

‘What’s he doing now?’ Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Hermione dared to look back at Draco, who was staring at her intensely, and was now giving her the thumbs up, and then the thumbs down, and tilting his head interestedly as though awaiting an answer.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Hermione groaned.

‘I don’t get it,’ Neville said.

Lavender shook her head. ‘Listen. That,’ she mimicked Draco’s first motion – the finger through the hole – much to Ron’s discomfort, ‘means sex, mm? And the thumbs up, thumbs down thing means ‘yes, no’. So, he’s asking her if she wants to have sex later. Simple.’

Hermione hadn’t even been back at Hogwarts for five minutes and Draco had already managed to make her the absolute centre of gossip and attention – just as she needed rather the opposite, given her new situation. She scowled, her face scarlet.

‘Me and Draco are just friends,’ she snarled. ‘We are NOT dating. But I’ve told him that everyone seems to think we’re together and he just thinks it’s funny. He’s making fun of you lot. And trying to piss me off too, probably. If he is, it’s certainly working.’

Her tone and expression was enough to stop her friends from gossiping for the time being. She turned her glare to Draco, who had slumped back onto the bench in defeat. 

She barely made it through one slice of toast before she was hit in the face with a bit of parchment, folded up like an origami bird, fluttering over the heads of everyone in the Great Hall and almost poking her eye out.

Batting away Harry’s hand – which had reached out in attempt to grasp the note before she could – she cautiously opened its contents, careful not to let her friends see what was scrawled inside.

 

HI

DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT??? WILL BE VERY DISAPPOINTED IF NOT

CATCH YOU LATER

 

She sighed. She screwed up the note into a ball and shoved it into her trouser pocket, shaking her head. She ignored the penetrative gaze of her Slytherin friend for the rest of breakfast.

♦ ♦ ♦

The first half of the day was utterly awful.

There was no particular reason. It was just like any other day. She had charms first, and Flitwick had awarded her a top grade for her latest essay. Transfiguration was as enjoyable and productive as usual, and McGonagall had kindly complimented her efforts in the lesson. She’d fulfilled her duties as prefect, walking the younger years back and forth to their lessons and the Great Hall with little issue, and she’d managed to deflect any potentially problematic questions from her friends with relative ease. It was just that nothing could ever compare to the weekend she’d just had.

It wasn’t until she’d reflected on her timetable for the day over lunch, and realised she had DADA next, that she started to feel rather ill.

She put off attending Remus’s lesson as long as she could, her anxiety worsening by the second. But her plan backfired. She walked into his lesson last and late, and Remus – as well as the entire class – had watched her nervously open the door and sneak inside.

Remus stared at her. He was stood at the front of the classroom, looking rather like his old self in a scruffy, ill-fitting cardigan and with his hands stuffed in his robe pockets. But he flushed a decidedly overt shade of pink upon seeing her, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

‘You’re late, Her – uh, Miss Granger,’ he said, his eyes on the ground. ‘Sit down, please.’

She mumbled an apology and went to find her usual seat. After the rather awkward incident in the Prefects’ Bathroom she’d taken to sitting at the very back of the class and had stayed there since – but her lateness had given her other classmates the opportunity to take her seat, and now a Slytherin had claimed it. She glared at them before looking helplessly around the class. The one seat left was at the very front. She sighed.

And then she saw a flash of platinum blond hair in the seat next to it and she audibly groaned.

Remus looked at her. 

‘Take your time,’ he said sarcastically, crossing his arms. 

Hermione blinked at him. She was suddenly, forcibly reminded of him moaning those words to her the day before, while she’d straddled his hips and got a bit ahead of herself. She supposed Remus momentarily experienced the same memory, because he flushed a deeper shade of pink and looked away embarrassedly.

She rushed to her seat and slumped into the chair next to Draco, who grinned at her madly. 

‘As I was saying,’ Remus said, eyeing everyone in the class but her, ‘I apologise for being absent for our previous lesson. I am aware Professor Snape substituted the lesson, um, can someone explain to me exactly what the lesson consisted of?’

Draco threw up his hand. Hermione felt an intense sense of dread.

Remus looked around at the rest of the class helplessly, as though willing anybody else to answer.

‘Mr. Malfoy?’ he said weakly.

Draco beamed. ‘Werewolves, sir.’

Remus stared at him. 

‘You don’t say.’

Draco nodded enthusiastically. 

‘Right, okay. Well, that’s not actually relevant for this year’s syllabus, Professor Snape must have been mistaken, my apologies…’ he sighed. ‘Anyway, I’d like to introduce you all to the Patronus Charm, some of you will be very familiar with it…’ he cast a look at Harry and smiled.

‘Oh, Professor,’ Draco called.

Remus visibly winced.

‘Yes?’

‘Just in case you’re interested, which I’m sure you are,’ he drawled, ‘we studied werewolves and their mating habits, actually.’

Remus made a noise that sounded remarkably like a sheep.

‘That sounds, uh, deeply inappropriate. Anyway-’

‘Oi, what you on about, Malfoy?’ a Gryffindor boy yelled. ‘We looked at the theory of rejecting the Imperius Curse, Professor. Malfoy’s getting his sex fantasies confused with reality again, apparently.’

‘Oi!’ Malfoy shouted.

‘Alright, enough!’ Remus shouted. Malfoy glared at the Gryffindor boy and mouthed a profanity at him before leaning back in his seat. 

‘If he did teach you that, then that’s brilliant, it means we’re on track. Right. Patronus Charms it is.’

Hermione turned to scowl at Draco as Remus began to talk through the charm, scribbling diagrams and key words on the blackboard. When he turned his back, Draco leaned in to whisper to her.

‘You did, didn’t you?’ he said excitedly. ‘He looked like a bloody schoolgirl when you walked in.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she whispered back, pretending to be focused on writing meticulous notes as Remus spoke through the uses of the Patronus.

‘You fucked him, don’t deny it,’ Draco said, grinning.

‘We most certainly did not. Be quiet.’

‘Alright. I’ll ask him myself, shall I?’ he said nonchalantly, admiring his nails.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she spat.

‘I would dare and you know it,’ he said, smirking and looking towards Remus with an evil glint in his eye.

‘I hate you,’ she muttered. ‘Whatever. He’ll just say the exact same. Because nothing happened.’

‘Sure,’ Draco drawled. 

As usual, Remus’s lessons evolved into a practical session, and soon everyone was helping clear space in the middle of the room, desks and chairs flying out of the way.

‘Now don’t be frustrated if you can’t perform the charm at first, or even for a long time. It’s incredibly advanced,’ Remus was saying. He’d performed the charm itself as an example, though it didn’t take on any shape.

The class separated off into little groups and talked amongst friends as they each attempted the charm. Remus trotted around the room, talking to groups and students individually, offering advice and encouragement.

Hermione watched him for a long time, until Draco sidled up next to her, making her jump.

‘How big is it?’ he said.

‘What?’

‘His wand,’ he said, smirking and twisting his own wand in his fingers.

‘His what? Oh – shut up, Draco,’ she snapped. ‘Let’s see your Patronus, then.’

‘You’ll have to buy me dinner first.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ 

She drew her own wand and, articulating the incantation perfectly, cast the spell.

Except… it didn’t work. She stared at her wand. It spat out a couple of white sparks.

Draco stared at her, smirking, and then started clapping loudly, earning the attention of everybody in the room. 

‘Brilliant, Hermione!’ he yelled. ‘Perfect, as always!’

‘I…’ Hermione flicked her wand purposefully, but nothing happened. What was going on? There had never been a spell she couldn’t do before.

She blushed, and scowled at Draco, who was still clapping loudly and sarcastically.

‘You heard Re – Professor Lupin. He said it takes a while to learn. It’s advanced magic.’

‘Ooh, but I thought you were sooo good at everything, Granger…’

‘Shut up!’

‘Professor!’ Draco called. Remus looked over. He was stood by Neville, talking to him about the charm.

‘Professor, can you come over, please! Poor Hermione here is finding the charm particularly difficult!’ Draco sang.

It was in that moment that Hermione swore she’d kill Draco.

Remus looked conflicted. He looked at Neville, who nodded, and Remus sighed and walked over. Draco smiled at him warmly, an expression that looked strangely foreign on his face.

‘Trouble?’ Remus said flatly, looking at Draco rather than Hermione.

Draco nodded.

‘I’m afraid your favourite student is having a bit of an issue,’ Draco yawned. 

‘I’m fine, Draco,’ Hermione muttered, feeling her face heat up.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, Granger,’ Draco said. ‘You probably just need a bit of, uh, one-on-one support from the Professor, here. I’m sure his expertise and years of experience will do you a lot of good,’ he smirked.

Remus stared at him. ‘Right.’

Hermione had crossed her arms. A lot of the class had turned to watch the scene. Whether it was Draco’s loudness, or the rarity of Hermione’s inability to cast a spell, or the palpable tension that had caught their attention, she was unsure. Harry was staring over curiously, and met her eyes with concern.

Remus’s gaze swept the class. 

‘Everyone, get on with the task,’ he said sternly. Most people mumbled amongst themselves and turned their focus back to casting their charm.

Remus finally looked at Hermione. She felt her breath hitch slightly.

‘So, um, what part are you, uh…’

‘Just… I can’t cast it,’ she shrugged. ‘But Draco was premature in calling you over, I’ve only had one go.’

‘Nothing worse than being premature, eh, Hermione?’ Draco said.

She glared at him.

‘Right, okay. Try and cast it for me, would you?’ Remus said, ignoring Draco.

Draco watched amusedly as Hermione fumbled awkwardly with her wand, assuming her casting position and speaking the words to the spell. Still, nothing happened.

‘Well, your form is perfect,’ Remus said.

‘It certainly is,’ Draco enthused.

He ignored him. ‘A big part of the spell, is, uh, emotional, or mental, as opposed to purely… physical,’ he swallowed. ‘As I was saying earlier, the best way to cast this spell is to think of a happy memory.’ 

‘A happy memory?’ Hermione repeated. Remus nodded, looking sheepish.

Draco clapped his hands. ‘Anything in particular spring to mind, Granger?’

‘Punching you in the face,’ she spat. Remus chuckled.

‘It’s, uh, not quite as simple as just a happy memory,’ Remus continued. ‘It should be something specific. Something that brings up a lot of… powerful emotion,’ he said quietly, suddenly rather interested in his shoes.

‘Oh, I’m sure you can think of something!’ Draco chimed, looking utterly thrilled. ‘Say, how about we brainstorm? Anything exciting happen over the weekend, Granger?’

Remus flushed a deep shade of red and frowned at the Slytherin.

‘Mr. Malfoy, how about you have a go, hmm?’ Remus said, crossing his arms. ‘You seem rather set on helping Hermione, here. Perhaps you should show us how it’s done.’

‘With all due respect, Professor, if there’s anyone who can show Hermione how it’s done…’

Suddenly, a huge, silver burst of light lit the room and, earning gasps and sighs in awe and surprise, a brilliant, ghostlike stag powered around the classroom, illuminating every dark and dusty corner with glimmering light. 

‘Fantastic, Harry!’ Remus shouted, clapping his hands together and beaming. Harry looked over at them and grinned, walking the proud stag around the perimeter of the room as though it were a show horse.

Remus marched away and summoned the class’s attention to Harry’s Patronus, discussing the symbolism of the animal and how the form of the charm often relates to the caster’s personality. Draco rolled his eyes, picking at his nails.

‘Seriously, can you shut up?’ Hermione snapped. 

‘I will now that I have my answer,’ Draco shrugged.

‘What?’

‘Oh, I know for sure, now. So how are you guys gonna keep up this naughty little affair, hmm? More weekend getaways?’

‘You don’t know anything,’ she muttered.

‘Granger, why do you insist on keeping up this lie?’ Draco sighed, shaking his head. ‘Listen, if I’m honest, I’m only ninety percent sure you guys did it. So I might call Lupin over again, see if he has any suggestions for this powerful, emotional memory he was talking about. Or maybe he can take you back to his room and create some new ones for you.’

She stared at him. 

‘You know what? Fine. You’re right. Happy?’ she snarled.

Draco gazed at her, his eyes wide with excitement.

‘You are telling me everything as soon as we get out of this bloody lesson,’ he said, grinning and turning back to watch Harry show off his stag. Hermione shook her head. She knew she’d regret that.

‘Pompous git,’ Draco muttered, tutting at Harry.

‘Takes one to know one,’ Hermione said.

♦ ♦ ♦

‘Alright everyone, this way, please!’

Hermione was waving her arms at the Gryffindor second years, who were reluctantly moping from History to their Potions class. She counted their heads and encouraged them to keep to the group, navigating them through the corridors like a sheepdog.

She almost leapt out of her skin when she felt a finger run down her spine.

‘Jesus!’ she cried, spinning round on her feet. 

‘Close,’ Draco said, smirking. ‘Did you think I was someone else?’

She pursed her lips. ‘No. You just surprised me, that’s all.’

She turned back to the herd of second years and barked at them to keep moving, the kids at the front dragging their heels.

‘I thought this was the opportune moment to discuss your little excursion,’ Draco said, eyeing the second years angrily. The ones that had turned to listen in on their conversation blushed and turned away.

‘Opportune? You must be joking,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And – wait a minute – you’re not a prefect. You should be in lesson.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a good thing I’m not a prefect. I’d have had prefect duty and I couldn’t be here.’

‘You should be in lesson!’

He pulled a face. ‘This is more important.’

‘Oh, for God’s…’

‘Oh, relax, Granger,’ he chuckled. ‘I have a free, okay? Now, come on. And in child-friendly language, too, please, we don’t want to frighten the kids, here.’

Hermione initially refused, but agreed to compromise by letting Draco ask yes and no questions, to which she would nod or shake her head. She didn’t think Draco would ever get close to an idea of what happened over the weekend – but, to her irritation, Draco was apparently a creative thinker. She had very few secrets left once he’d ran out of questions.

‘Ho-ho-ho!’ he bellowed. ‘Granger, I have never been more proud!’ 

She sighed, but couldn’t help but smile a little. As much as she didn’t want to base her morals on Draco’s twisted opinion, it was always nice to be met with positivity. She wouldn’t have got that from her other friends – understandably, of course, and she didn’t resent them for that. 

She was on her way to Ancient Runes, having finally forced the second years into the dungeon, when Draco asked her the same question that had been plaguing her mind for the last twenty-four hours.

‘How are you going to possibly keep this up?’ he said. ‘And get away with it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she sighed, rubbing her temples. ‘But… I don’t know. I’m just hoping opportunities arise.’

‘That’s pretty uncertain.’

‘Tell me about it,’ she said. She reached her classroom, and looked at him before entering.

‘Thanks, Draco. I mean, you’re a good friend. In your own way.’

He shrugged, scowling. ‘Whatever.’

She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder before opening the door into her next class, and he flashed her a grin before strolling off.


	30. The New Burrow

The next week passed uneventfully, to Hermione’s relief and disappointment. She’d only had one remotely remarkable interaction with Remus; he approached her during the week and informed her that he’d discussed her lake vision with Dumbledore. Dumbledore had apparently warned the both of them to discuss it with nobody, for fear of inspiring unnecessary terror, and would investigate it himself. Ultimately, though, there was little she was allowed to do about it, so she decided to put it out of her mind as best she could.

And this was simpler than expected – there was enough on her mind as it was. She almost wanted to forget Remus, and often tried to occupy her thoughts by immersing herself in homework and revision. But the regular reminders, in the form of DADA lessons, were too much. She both longed to see him yet dreaded it – even when Draco promised to behave himself, the lessons were tense, and she hated that Remus seemed to be making an effort to avoid her.

She had her face in a book, curled up in a squashy armchair in the Gryffindor common room, when Ron told them the news.

‘So my parents have finally got the compensation from the Ministry,’ he was saying. ‘They’re rebuilding the Burrow. Well, it won’t be the Burrow, but… it’ll be our new home, anyway.’

She peered over her book.

‘Is it gonna be in the same place?’ Harry asked.

‘Yeah, but it’ll be fine. Because of the attack we’re allowed top security and defence measures, so there’s going to be a Fidelius charm and regular check-ups, and stuff.’

‘Stuff that should have been happening anyway,’ Ginny added bitterly.

‘But it’ll be a fresh start,’ Ron shrugged.

‘Who’s building it?’ Hermione asked, closing her book in the lap.

‘Mum and Dad obviously. All my brothers are coming over to help. I think Mum mentioned Sirius is usually there, too, so you can probably ask him about that.’

Harry hummed. He’d missed his godfather. Ever since Hogwarts had tightened its security he’d been forced to evict from the Shrieking Shack – a mysterious shaggy black dog stalking the grounds would attract too much attention now. He’d stayed in Grimmauld Place, and Hermione knew that both of them were beginning to feel quite lonely without the other.

‘But anyway. Mum’s talked to the school and we’re allowed to go over for the weekend to see everyone and help out. Morale boost, I guess,’ Ron said.

‘Who’s we?’ Harry asked excitedly.

‘Well, me, Ginny, and you guys can come, if you want.’

‘Is Sirius gonna be there?’ 

‘Probably,’ Ron shrugged.

‘Great!’ he exclaimed, clapping his hands. ‘Uh, not that I wouldn’t go if he wasn’t, mate. I’m going to support you, obviously.’

‘Sure,’ Ron said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Hermione? You coming, or are you too busy doing the homework of everybody in the school?’

‘I’d love to come, Ron,’ she said, ignoring his remark. ‘It’ll be nice to see everyone again, after all that happened.’

‘Yeah, well, it won’t be all that exciting, so don’t get your hopes up,’ Ron shrugged. 

Hermione was just pleased to get out of the castle for a while. She didn’t want excitement – just escape. She nodded and beamed at her friend, and went back to her book.

♦ ♦ ♦

The following weekend, Hermione rose early and met her friends outside the castle gates. Dumbledore had allowed them to use a portkey, since the train would take far too long, and there was currently no fireplace at the Burrow to travel to by Floo Network.

Hermione shivered against the cold February breeze and tightened her scarf around her neck. At the gates stood a small group, and she began to jog to reach them faster.

Ron was stood chatting to Ginny, who was kicking her feet, and Harry was discussing something with Dumbledore, slightly separated from the group.

Hermione’s heart began to thud. There was another person.

Remus was there, too. He was kneeling on the ground, furthest from everyone, and was tending to something.

She approached them nervously, and didn’t dare look at Remus. He hadn’t looked up.

‘Morning,’ she said quietly, forcing her face to smile at Ron and Ginny.

‘Morning. Oh, your best friend is coming with us. Not Malfoy, the other one,’ Ron said, nodding at Remus. 

Hermione’s lips thinned. ‘Why?’

‘Uh, I guess because he’s close to Sirius,’ Ron shrugged. His eyes darted to Ginny, who nodded at him.

Ron took a few steps towards Hermione, lowering his voice.

‘I think this thing has turned into a bit of an Order meeting as well, to be honest,’ he muttered. ‘That’s what Harry’s talking to Dumbledore about, there’s been more attacks, I think he’s trying to get Harry to stop taking his meds, let the visions happen…’ he shuddered. ‘He forgot to take his potions the other week and he woke up the entire boy’s dorm, screaming. Poor bastard.’

Hermione frowned, gazing at Harry sadly. He looked fine, but she knew he was dealing with a lot. She’d had just one vision and it had been scarring – she couldn’t imagine what it was like to have to fear that every time he went to sleep.

‘So Remus is coming because of, uh, Order business?’

Ron shrugged. ‘Dumbledore spun us some tale about adult supervision, but yeah.’

Hermione turned her gaze to Remus, who was still bent over what appeared to be a rusty old bucket. She guessed that was the portkey they’d all be using.

Suddenly, Dumbledore turned and bid his farewell and strolled back into the castle, his cloak billowing behind him. Harry approached the group and smiled at them all widely. Hermione could tell he was forcing himself to smile, just as she had done a few minutes before.

‘You alright, mate?’ Ron asked quietly.

Harry nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he said, biting his lip. ‘Right. Can we go, yet?’

‘Just a second,’ Remus called. He looked up, eyeing the group, and beckoned everybody to him. ‘Right. Should be ready, now.’

‘Hate these bloody things,’ Ron groaned, as they all gathered around the bucket.

‘You get used to it,’ Remus said, taking a deep breath. ‘Okay, everybody grab the edge.’

Hermione positioned herself between Ginny and Ron, staring into the bottom of the bucket, holding her breath. Remus checked each of them before counting down from five, and, on ‘one’, they were whisked into the air in a familiarly nauseating flurry; they were in the skies for what felt like an eternity before they flopped onto green grass, the five of them muttering and grumbling to their feet.

England’s Februaries were milder than Scotland’s, and Hermione relished the distinct rise in temperature as she brushed the dirt off her coat, and gazed around.

She was incredibly shocked by what she saw. An incredibly small, quaint little cottage stood where the once towering Burrow did. It was very sweet; square and cream, with a thatched roof and pretty little windows. But it was alarmingly unlike anything Hermione could conceive of the Weasleys to move into.

‘Uh… Ron,’ Harry began, clearly as surprised as she. ‘You know… you have the biggest family I know?’

‘Yeah?’ Ron said, looking completely unfazed. 

‘That would barely house one person,’ Harry said.

‘Well, obviously,’ Ginny said, rolling her eyes. 

Harry and Hermione stared at the redheads, who were beginning to smile mischievously.

‘Oh, we’re teasing. Come on!’ Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s hand dragging him off towards the cottage. Ron shook his head and walked along with Remus and Hermione, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

‘So… is it bigger on the inside?’ Hermione asked.

‘You could say that,’ Ron shrugged. ‘But I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Even I haven’t actually seen it, yet.’

Ron looked very content being home. Hermione watched him fondly, quite conscious of Remus’s quiet presence. 

She couldn’t believe he was here. They had such a strange relationship now. The last time they’d spoken, alone and uninhibited, he’d promised her that he wouldn’t let this relationship end. But it had been over a week and they’d only exchanged the odd glance, or talked purely about DADA, the air awkward and stifled around them.

Of course, she thought about him all the time. She wondered if he thought about her.

The three of them reached the cottage. The door was ajar, Harry and Ginny having already entered. 

It was just one big room; mostly empty and unfurnished, and with a strong smell of paint and sawdust. The floorboards were new and shiny under their feet. 

Hermione exchanged a confused look with Remus, who flashed his eyebrows and shrugged.

‘Ron…’ 

‘Welcome to the New Burrow,’ he said, turning to grin at them both.

‘Where are Harry and Ginny?’ Remus said, staring around the room. There wasn’t exactly anywhere for them to hide.

‘Well, in the Burrow, of course,’ Ron said, smirking.

‘But… we’re in the Burrow,’ Hermione said. She looked at Remus again. Had Ron lost it? 

‘Well, this is just the foyer,’ Ron said, as though that were obvious. He strolled along the room and, drawing his wand, muttered a word under his breath and, suddenly, the floorboards began to shift under their feet. Remus and Hermione leapt back towards the front door, staring at the ground; before their eyes, the floorboards were moving to reveal a large, spirally staircase, which dug into the ground. 

Hermione and Remus approached it slowly, peering down the hole. It didn’t go very deep, and they could see light.

‘Oh!’ Hermione gasped. ‘It’s a literal burrow!’

‘That was the idea, yeah,’ Ron grinned. ‘The new design was inspired, by, uh, mum and dad’s anxieties about the thing toppling to the ground again. That can’t really happen if it’s underground, now, can it?’

Ron was the first to scurry down the staircase. Hermione followed, somewhat timidly, and Remus took up the rear. The way they’d constructed the tunnels reminded Hermione of the dungeons at Hogwarts, but it was far cosier, and somehow very warm. At the bottom of the staircase was a large room – it was yet to be fully furnished, but there was an array of very tatty-looking couches and armchairs, and a circular coffee table housing pots of tea and cakes.

The room was connected to ten further tunnels; individual corridors that led to separated rooms. Hermione guessed the one closest to them, on the far left, was the kitchen – it was a very short tunnel, judging by the strong smell of pie in the oven, pots of boiling vegetables on the stove.

‘Oh, Ron, it’s wonderful!’ Hermione cried, gazing around.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ he said, beaming. ‘I mean, it needs a bit of work, more furniture and decorating and stuff, but…’ he sighed. ‘I like it.’

Then Mrs. Weasley came bustling out of the kitchen, her round face lit with delight upon seeing them.

‘Dears!’ she cried. ‘It’s so lovely to see you all!’

There was the usual commotion of big hugs and offerings of tea and biscuits and a compulsory tour around the home. Eight of the tunnels led to bedrooms; only the master bedroom, belonging to the elder Weasleys, was fully furnished. The rest were mostly empty, but held a bed, or at least a sleeping bag, for the time being.

‘And it is far too excessive really, considering almost all of the kids have left home now, but we couldn’t bear to not have enough room for all of them, I mean, what about Christmases and Birthdays and the like?’ Mrs Weasley was saying to Remus, who was nodding and humming politely.

They arrived back in the living room, the largest, main room, just as Mr. Weasley, the many sons and Sirius thundered down the staircase, laughing and shouting amongst themselves. There was a loud, chaotic greeting, and Hermione lost track of how many times she’d been dragged into a hug by who, but she secretly loved the sense of community in the Weasley home.

‘Where’s Harry?’ Sirius said, peering over everyone’s heads, most of which were red.

‘Sirius!’ Harry shouted, emerging from the tunnel that led to Ginny’s home. Hermione saw Ron grimace, as what they were doing in there appeared to dawn on him.

‘Hello, mate,’ Sirius said, embracing his godson. He’d already greeted Remus, and Hermione had heard Sirius say something about talking to Remus later on in private. It wasn’t of much mystery as to what the topic of conversation would be about.

The day was spent in hard work; moving furniture, decorating, painting, varnishing, polishing, sewing, mending. Upstairs, Sirius and Arthur were constructing a fireplace in the foyer. Most of the sons had disappeared into their own rooms, having brought some of their own pieces of furniture and personal possessions and making their little tunnels their own. Mrs Weasley moved in and out of different jobs, constantly moving from the kitchen to the living room to one of the many bedrooms.

Sirius emerged from the staircase and ordered Remus into the main bathroom, where Hermione guessed would be the location of Remus’s interrogation about their weekend away. 

Hermione was helping Ginny decorate her room – enchanting her wardrobe, so it was deceptively roomy – when Ron and Harry entered, talking casually.

‘And she’s begging me to do something for next week,’ Ron was saying, sounding exhausted. ‘Well, not begging, but she’s dropping hints – and knowing Lavender, she’ll be livid if I don’t pick up on them.’

‘Are you two even official?’ Harry asked.

‘No. Well. I don’t know. Not official, but, we, uh, made out a little on the way to Divination a few weeks ago, and ever since she’s sort of… got the wrong idea.’

‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t have kissed her if you’re not interested in her, Ron,’ Ginny snapped. 

‘Yeah, well, I don’t have much of a choice now. We’re sort of together whether I like it or not,’ Ron shrugged.

‘What’s so special about next week, anyway?’ Harry asked, looking confused.

Ginny shot him a look, and Harry started to look rather nervous.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,’ Ginny said flatly.

‘Forgotten what?’

‘It’s Valentine’s Day, for Merlin’s sake!’ she cried, shaking her head. ‘Are we not going to celebrate it, then?’

‘I – uh – well, I don’t know, do you want to?’ Harry stammered.

Ginny’s glare gave him his answer.

‘I’ve already gotten you your gift. I suppose you’ve not thought to get me anything,’ Ginny tutted.

‘Well, what do you want?’ Harry said. 

‘Oh, you’re such a romantic…’

Harry huffed, and decided to watch Hermione perform her various spells on the wardrobe.

‘You doing anything for it, Hermione?’ he asked, clearly changing the subject.

‘Why would I? I’m not with anyone,’ she said. 

It was a thought, though. Could she celebrate it with Remus, somehow? She’d need a plan, but… maybe this time at the Burrow gave them the opportunity to at least discuss it.

Wait, what was she thinking? Celebrate Valentine’s Day? What were they supposed to do, go out on a date? Get a romantic meal at the Three Broomsticks, go dancing? She was deluding herself.

‘Why don’t you and Malfoy go to Madam Puddifoot’s?’ Ron said sarcastically. 

‘Because we aren’t together, that’s why,’ Hermione snapped.

‘Or The Hog’s Head,’ Ron continued, ignoring her protest. ‘I can imagine him in somewhere like that.’

‘Stop it,’ Hermione said, furrowing her eyebrows. ‘He’s my friend. But he’s nowhere near my type.’

Hermione regretted that statement as soon as she said it. 

‘What is your type, then?’ Ron said slyly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Ginny and Harry eyed Hermione curiously. She’d told Ginny all about her crush on Remus – well, it was more than a crush – and she knew Ginny and Sirius had talked to Harry all about it. None of them knew they’d since consummated their relationship, but they certainly knew Hermione’s type.

‘I – well – certainly not Draco.’

‘What was all that stuff in the Great Hall last week, then?’ Ron said.

‘Oh, he was just being stupid.’ 

‘And now he won’t leave you alone in DADA. He’s always staring at you and sidling up to you and whispering to you. Honestly, I’m convinced you two are having some secret affair, or something.’

‘What – what are you talking about?’

Hermione looked up – as did everyone else – to see Remus stood in the doorway, looking rather flustered.

Remus was blinking furiously, looking ridiculously uncomfortable. ‘Secret affair?’ he repeated.

Oh, no, Hermione thought. He’d gotten completely the wrong idea.

‘Remus,’ Hermione said quickly, ‘Ron’s just making fun of me and Draco. Completely wrong, as always.’

Remus took a moment to register what had happened, and he breathed out deeply.

‘Oh, right. I see.’

‘You alright?’ Harry asked.

‘Oh, it’s just that, uh, dinner is ready,’ Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck. Ron jumped to his feet and headed out of the room immediately, following the smells flowing through the corridors. Ginny flashed her eyebrows at Hermione before following her brother, Harry in tow.

Remus studied Hermione for a moment, waiting in silence until the other three had disappeared.

‘God, for a second there, I thought…’ Remus laughed. 

‘Yes, I thought you were going to blurt something out for a moment there,’ Hermione said, smiling shyly. ‘And give the whole game away.’

‘Oh trust me, I was a second away from ruining absolutely everything,’ Remus said, grinning.

‘Did Sirius talk to you earlier?’

‘What? Oh, yes.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘About us, I assume?’

He nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything.’

‘Good.’

‘Yes, I don’t kiss and tell. Unlike somebody,’ Remus said, narrowing his eyes.

‘What?’

‘I fear Draco is intimately aware of our… situation.’

Hermione groaned. ‘Oh God, him. No, he… okay, he knew before that I had a bit of a, well, thing for you,’ she said, quietly and a bit awkwardly. ‘And, quite frustratingly, he’s rather perceptive. He was messing with you in that DADA lesson to try and work out if his theories about us were correct. They were, obviously,’ she said, sighing.

Remus hummed. ‘Ah. Fair enough. I’ll try not to be too terrified about that.’

‘You don’t have to be. Honestly. I trust him more than most people, bizarrely,’ she said, smiling at the thought of him.

He nodded. 

‘Right, well, we shouldn’t keep them waiting,’ he said, glancing towards the door.

‘No. Better not. But… I was hoping we could talk at some point. In private.’

Remus looked contemplative. ‘Well… we’re staying the night, aren’t we? I’m sure we could find some privacy while everyone else is asleep,’ he said, lowering his voice.

A thrill ran down Hermione’s spine. 

‘Are you suggesting we sneak out in the middle of the night?’ she whispered.

He shrugged. ‘It might be something we have to get used to,’ he said, cocking an eyebrow.

She bit down her smile and nodded. ‘Alright. Everyone should be asleep by… two, at least. I’ll meet you outside, in the orchard.’

He nodded, smirking.

Hermione’s heart was racing and she was beginning to feel rather hot. Their situation was far from ideal – under constant watch and scrutiny from their loved ones, and totally, horribly against the rules. But it was strangely exhilarating all the same, and God, that really turned her on. He winked at her as she passed him, heading out of Ginny’s room towards the living room. 

He was close behind her, and she almost squealed when she felt his hand slap and grab her arse.

And not at all far away from the entire Weasley family and guests. She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned to glare at him. He was smirking, his eyes wide.

‘Stop it!’ she whispered. But the way she’d spoken had made it sound like she really didn’t want him to stop it.

♦ ♦ ♦

Throughout dinner Remus had been shooting Hermione looks that made her legs weak. He’d been careful – Sirius was still on his scent, as it were – but by the end of the meal she’d been rendered utterly overwhelmed. She crossed her legs in her chair, idly massaging her thighs, not daring to meet his eyes for fear of being driven to climbing on top him in front of everyone.

She was staying in Ginny’s room, sleeping on the floor in a relatively comfortable sleeping bag. But she was far too excited to sleep at all, and instead read the hours away in wandlight until Ginny fell asleep, and regular glances at her watch told her it was about time to meet Remus in the orchard.

She’d not taken off her clothes or shoes – she didn’t want to waste time clumsily navigating Ginny’s bedroom in the dark, and accidentally wake her – so she slipped out of her covers and tiptoed out of the tunnel. She entered the silent, pitch-black living room – it was thankfully empty – and headed for the staircase. The entrance to the foyer had been left open, most fortunately, so she ascended the staircase and slipped out of the front door, the cold air hitting her like a slap.

She held her arms across her chest, shivering, as she jogged towards the orchard. 

‘Lumos,’ she whispered, and her wand, outstretched in front of her, illuminated her path. Soon, she reached the privacy of the trees and stopped, peering around for any sign of Remus.

It was a dark, starless, moonless night, and utterly freezing. She wandered around, peering round trees, suddenly realising she and Remus should have planned to meet by a more distinctive landmark; the orchard was massive.

Suddenly two hands clasped her waist from behind and she gasped, twisting on her heels, wand drawn. There, Remus blinked against the blinding light her wand was shining, grimacing.

‘Remus, you little…’ she slapped his shoulder. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he laughed, rubbing his arm where she’d slapped him. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

‘Well, try harder to,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘I’ll try.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Well,’ he said, looking around. ‘Here we are. Alone at last.’

‘It feels like I’ve waited an eternity,’ she mused.

‘Oh, Hermione, it’s not even been two weeks,’ he said teasingly, rolling his eyes. ‘Have you longed for me, all this time?’

‘Shut up.’

He chuckled. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.

‘I’ve missed you, too.’

‘I hate this,’ he said, staring around at the darkness of the orchard. ‘Trying to act natural, tiptoeing around you… I’m sorry it has to be this way,’ he breathed.

She shrugged. ‘I understand. It’s okay.’

‘It’s not okay, though. It must make you feel awful,’ he said, looking guilty. 

Hermione sighed. It did. It really did. She missed him more than anything. She ached for him. Her lessons with him were painful. But it was moments like these, where it was just the two of them together, alone, that she didn’t hurt anymore.

‘Well. We’re here now.’

‘Indeed,’ Remus agreed. ‘So, uh, was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss, or... shall we just get on with it?’ he said, his voice suddenly lower, taking a step forward and closing the distance between them.

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, is that what you thought we were going to do? Oh, no. I just had a few questions about that essay you set us, actually.’

He pursed his lips. 

She smirked. ‘It’s about… well. I thought we could discuss how we’re going to do this, now that we finally have the opportunity.’

Remus nodded slowly, suddenly contemplative. 

‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘I think we’re going to have to make it up as we go along. I don’t think there’s any way we can plan this.’ His eyes were not on her but scanning the tree tops, as though he expected something to descend upon them.

Hermione hummed.

‘What about, um, key dates?’

‘Such as?’

She shrugged. ‘The full moons, for one.’

Remus took a deep breath. ‘It would be far preferable to have you around, but I’ll understand if it’s not possible,’ he said, quite matter-of-factly. ‘We’ll probably have to plan, if we do plan, closer to the time. Other key dates?’

Hermione shifted on her feet, staring at her toes.

‘Valentine’s Day,’ she mumbled.

She heard Remus repress a snort of laughter and her eyes snapped to his face, glaring at him furiously.

‘It’s not funny. Why are you laughing?’

He shrugged, grinning. ‘That’s just very cute, Hermione.’

She shook her head. ‘Forget it.’

‘No! No, I agree with you,’ he said, his voice suddenly softer. ‘We’ll figure something out, I promise. Okay?’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘How about,’ he began, ‘if Draco already knows… and he’s as perceptive and trustworthy as you say he is…’ 

She almost couldn’t believe what he was saying.

‘You want me to get Draco in on this?’

Remus shrugged. ‘Well. There’s not a lot of opportunity for me to converse with you about this sort of thing. And I’m sure Draco would have a few ideas up his sleeves.’

Hermione hummed. He did have a point, and she knew Draco would only be more than happy to help. Assist the perfect Hermione Granger break the rules and perpetuate her very illegal, very immoral affair with her professor? She couldn’t imagine Draco being happier. 

‘Okay. Next Sunday, I’ll meet you in your rooms. Somehow. Haven’t worked it out yet. But…’ she bit her lip. ‘Just be ready.’

A smile broke out on Remus’s face and he raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling. ‘Why, as you wish.’

‘Until then,’ Hermione said slowly, cocking her head to the left a little. She didn’t continue; she just gazed at him, still biting her lip, her eyes on his lips.

Remus didn’t hesitate any longer; he closed the distance between them, and held her face in his hands as he pulled her into a kiss, forcefully, desperately; he was making up for lost time and God, she was happy for it. She was as desperate as he was, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, running her hands up and down his chest and arms, revelling in the feeling of him again, having waited so long. She shivered as his hands fell from her face, past her shoulders and wound round her back, his fingertips tracing her spine; suddenly, his hands were gripping her thighs and he was effortlessly sweeping her from her feet, carrying her weight in his arms. He took a few paces forwards and she felt the roughness of a tree press against her back as he parted her thighs with his hips, pressing his body between her legs. 

He rocked against her for a while, grinding his hard-on against her jeans, breaking from her lips to kiss her neck and collarbone and shoulders. She was only too receptive, moistening with every thrust of his hips, a soft moan seeping from her lips as he pushed harder into her. 

‘Stop wasting time,’ she gasped, blinking upwards at the black of the night sky.

She heard him chuckle into her neck as he obeyed and dropped her to her feet; she wobbled slightly, her knees week and thighs quivering. Remus grappled at the front of her jeans and pulled apart the button, tugging down the zip and pushing them down over the curves of her hips; she wriggled out of them as best she could, the cold air nipping at her bare flesh, all hairs on end. She kicked off her trainers and her jeans from around her ankles, and then Remus started on his own, dropping his trousers and boxers and she stepped out of her little pair of lacy underwear.

She shivered, and Remus eyed her, his eyes dark.

‘Let’s warm you up, hmm?’ 

She nodded and he was lifting up her by the thighs again, her backside scratching against the bark of the tree; she was more than ready for him, her pussy hot and throbbing, and she moaned when he finally sank into her. He fucked her hard and fast, grinding himself in and out of her; she was tightly sandwiched between Remus and the tree, suspended, her legs loosely wrapped around him and her arms limp around his shoulders. Soon Remus was biting down a scream, groaning into her neck, and his body weakened as much as hers – he thrust his dick into her a few more times and she came too, and he held her tightly in his arms as she stepped back onto the ground, fumbling as she found her footing.

She was exhausted, and she could tell Remus was too. She watched as he stumbled into his underwear and trousers again and struggled with his shoes, his face flushed and his eyes lidded. She dressed too, wincing as she felt her knickers soak with fluid, and pulled at Remus’s collar before he leant down and kissed her gently.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, ‘that was a little hasty.’

She giggled. ‘It’s okay. It’s been a while.’

‘Not even two weeks,’ he corrected, pulling away and raising an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps we should moderate ourselves.’

‘Moderation’s boring.’

Remus chuckled, looking at his feet. ‘We better get back.’

‘I hope nobody noticed we’re gone.’

‘They wouldn’t’ve. Come on.’


	31. Valentine's Day

Hermione and Remus had absolutely no desire to rush back to the Burrow, but a strange sense of urgency forced them into a slight jog, hand in hand. The feeling of Remus’s thumb brushing gently against her hand flooded her chest with a lovely warmth, and every so often he glanced at her and their eyes would meet, and her heart would flutter.

Hermione was the first to slip through the front door. She watched Remus close and lock it. The entrance to the depths of the Burrow had remained open. She headed down the stairway with Remus closely behind. 

The living room was still eerily quiet and totally dark. Hermione squinted at the man beside her, who had turned his attention to closing up the stairway, to leave it as he presumably found it. He must’ve put some kind of muffling charm on it, or on the room itself, because the entrance to the stairway above sealed shut in absolute silence. Hermione looked at Remus.

‘Better get back to your room. And, um, put your pyjamas on, perhaps,’ he whispered.

She nodded. ‘I’ll see you Sunday.’

‘Definitely. Good night, love.’

He leant down and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before shooting her one of his knee-weakening smiles and turning back to the room he and Sirius were sharing. Hermione hesitated, watching him turn away, before quietly scurrying across the room towards Ginny’s.

As Hermione navigated her part of the bedroom in the dark, finding the pyjamas she’d folded up ready by her sleeping bag, she idly thought about how this evening had been quite exhilarating. The idea of getting caught was strangely thrilling; of course, only in theory. If they truly were caught, that would be the end of them, and she certainly didn’t want that. But there was no need to worry – she and Remus were out of the woods for now, quite literally.

-

‘And I’ve been driving myself crazy all week trying to work out how to meet him tomorrow, but…’

Draco was curled up in his chair in a rather feline manner, his head cocked and his eyes lidded, considering Hermione studiously. She was sat opposite. They were in the library, at their favourite table. It was Saturday evening, the eve before Valentine’s Day. Hermione had never once celebrated the day and had never given much thought to it until now. Now, it was all that had been plaguing her mind all week. She was clever, but she just didn’t seem to have this knack for mischief so many of her friends did.

Draco hummed thoughtfully. Hermione noticed he was looking a lot better these days. He was still ghostly pale, but not in a way that concerned her at all. A little pink blush tinted his cheeks, his grey eyes were more lustrous, his hair was irritatingly sleek and impeccable and he was carrying himself with more esteem and confidence. Or perhaps it was arrogance. In Draco, it was hard to tell. But at least he was beginning to look more like his old self again.

‘Didn’t you tell me about skiving Snape’s detention once?’ he said.

Hermione’s thoughts stretched back to late October, the first full moon she’d spent with Remus. Yes, that was it – she’d downed some fudge and pastilles and thrown up into one of Snape’s cauldrons.

Her mind was apparently working at the same speed as Draco’s, as he began to vocalise her thoughts.

‘So if you’ve got any of those dodgy sweets left…’

‘I do.’

‘You could put on a bit of a performance, puking and fainting and the like, and get cosy in the infirmary for the night.’

‘And it’s not as locked as securely as the common room...’

‘Because they don’t expect bedridden patients to go running round the castle at night.’

‘So I just wait for everyone to fall asleep, take a couple of cures, and make sure I’m not seen on way to Remus’s rooms.’

‘And you can have your lovely romantic evening,’ Draco quipped, rolling his eyes.

Hermione nodded, her heart beginning to thud with anxiety but that familiar thrill rushing back all at once. She had a plan. It wasn’t solid, it wasn’t watertight – but it was a plan.

‘See?’ Draco purred, pursing his lips into a smug little smile. ‘Aren’t you lucky you have me? I bet your other mates have absolutely no idea you two are even a thing, eh? They’d probably shit themselves, boring little twits…’

Hermione couldn’t deny that. They certainly wouldn’t be happy if they knew about Remus and, admittedly, she was lucky to have someone as morally precarious as Draco to talk to about this.

‘They have no idea, no. But they aren’t boring, Draco.’

‘Oh, yes they are.’

Hermione’s lips thinned, and she glanced at the book open on the table.

‘Not going to fight me on this?’ Draco asked, suddenly curious.

Hermione shrugged. 

‘They’ve not been boring. They’ve just been… difficult to be around lately. With the Valentine’s stuff.’

‘Oh?’ Draco cocked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah,’ Hermione breathed. ‘Lavender and Ron have been insufferable. Can’t keep their hands off each other, kissing at the Gryffindor table at every meal…’ 

‘I’ve seen,’ Draco said, grimacing. ‘Wouldn’t call it kissing. I thought it looked more like a mother bird feeding its young.’

‘And Ginny and Harry…’

Hermione trailed off, a pang of guilt striking her as she realised she was talking so negatively about her friends.

But it was too late. She’d perked Draco’s interest, and he’d leant forward across the table eagerly.

‘Go on.’

‘Nah, it’s nothing.’

‘C’mon, Granger. I wouldn’t want you bottling up any emotions. A problem shared is a problem halved,’ Draco drawled. Those words sounded odd on his tongue.

‘Don’t pretend this isn’t gossiping,’ Hermione sighed. Her eyes darted around the room. ‘It’s just that Harry has been too occupied to worry about silly stuff like Valentine’s Day right now, but Ginny’s really into it, and they’ve had a bit of a tiff, and now they’re not really talking. It just creates a lot of weird tension. Combine that with Lavender and Ron eating each other’s faces, and you’ve got a very unpleasant meal.’

‘Potter and Ginny not on good terms?’ Draco said, his eyebrows raised to the ceiling.

She shook her head.

‘Good thing you have an excuse to ditch dinner tomorrow,’ Draco said hurriedly. ‘I’d take the sweets then. Make a big show of being ill. Pretend it’s food poisoning.’

‘Good plan.’

‘I’ll be watching,’ he said, winking.

-

A day passed, and Hermione was at the table at dinnertime. She was squashed between Ginny and Harry, and was feeling deeply uncomfortable. Both of them had surly looks on their faces, and there was a horrible tension filling the air.

Hermione, however, was the only one affected by this tension, seemingly. All her other friends, and much of the castle’s population, were enjoying Valentine’s Day – the hall was decorated with floating hearts and pink candles and iridescent bubbles, and a special, sugar-laden array of desserts had just appeared on the tables. This would be perfect, Hermione thought. She was surprised the amount of iced cakes, rich chocolate pudding and buns dripping with fondant and cream didn’t make everyone feel sick. 

She eyed the table. Harry and Ginny were staring at their plates, picking at their desserts and not daring to look at the other. Neville was seated next to Luna, who had decided to join the Gryffindor table this evening, and they were conversing awkwardly, blushing and tripping over their words. Seamus and Dean were teasing each other. Ron and Lavender had their tongues in each other’s mouths. Absolutely no attention was on her.

Except for Draco, who had sat at the Slytherin table looking as miserable as ever, and was watching Hermione intensely. And she was sure Remus had glanced over a few times, too. She wondered if he was preparing for tonight, like she’d asked him to. 

No matter. She couldn’t communicate it to him now – she could only hope. 

She slipped her hands into her pocket and held some Fainting Fancies and Nosebleed Nougat in her sleeve, before dropping them nonchalantly alongside her plate of eerily similar-looking treats. Quite casually, she stuffed a handful in her mouth, meeting eyes with Draco from across the room.

Her head grew heavy, and ached, and she lolled forward and clasped a hand over her mouth. Her vision blurred, a sickly heat tingled up her neck, and she felt her face blanch.

She gagged, dry-heaving, and began to feel a little trickle of blood run from her nose and onto her hands. She watched little red droplets fall onto her plate.

‘Jesus, Hermione, are you okay?’ Harry said, leaning away from her as though she was infectious.

‘Does she look okay, Harry?’ Ginny snapped. She turned to Hermione, looking worried. ‘Hermione, did you eat too much?’

‘You don’t get nosebleeds from eating too much, Ginny,’ Harry sneered. ‘She’s ill, can’t you see?’

‘Brilliant deduction, Potter.’

The Gryffindor table’s residents looked up at the voice. Draco’s bored gaze swept across them.

‘Granger, you need to get to the infirmary. I’ll escort you.’

‘Eh? I think we can handle this, Malfoy,’ Harry snapped. 

Draco smirked at him. ‘Oh, please, I wouldn’t trust you to open a can of beans without killing yourself, let alone look after somebody else. Come along, Granger.’

He grasped Hermione’s shoulders and wrapped his arm around her, gathering her to her feet. She felt incredibly faint.

‘Get off her, Malfoy,’ Harry growled, standing.

Draco scoffed, smiling down on him haughtily. He easily had a few inches on Harry.

‘I said, get off her. I’ll take her.’

Draco ignored him, and went to leave the Great Hall. But Harry had sidestepped the two of them, and was standing in their way.

‘S’alrigh’, ‘arry…’ Hermione moaned, but couldn’t manage to utter much more.

‘Potter, you realise the longer you keep this up, the longer it’ll take to get Granger to the infirmary? Or do you find that too difficult to understand?’ 

Harry was red in the face. Draco had kept his cool, and seemed to find all this wonderfully amusing.

‘Come on, then, love. Out of the way, please!’ Draco sang.

Harry considered Hermione for a few seconds, and then submitted, standing to the side and letting the two pass.

‘Thank you, darling,’ Draco drawled. He gazed around the room, realising many eyes had currently fallen on the three of them. He grinned.

‘Oh, and, happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous!’ Draco shouted. He pressed his face only a few inches from Harry’s, smacked his lips, and winked at him before hushing Hermione out of the Great Hall. Lots of voices followed them out of the room.

-

‘Oh, Potter’s face, that was priceless, I really must publicly humiliate him more often… did you see the look he gave me? And the way he got all red and flustered? Absolutely brilliant. Hilarious.’

Draco was talking quite a lot as he dragged Hermione towards the infirmary. But to her, his voice was just white noise.

‘Don’t you think it was a bit of an overreaction, if anything, though? I mean, what kind of twat gets so defensive about their sexuality nowadays? Unless they’re hiding it, of course, out of shame or embarrassment, a fear of coming out. Is the Gryffindor house homophobic? Would that be the reason? Maybe they’re pressuring him to stay in the closet. That’s why he was so taken aback by it. I mean, that makes sense, right?’

Hermione managed a stifled moan, scared to open her mouth for fear of being sick.

‘Yeah, I think so too. I mean, he definitely reacted, like, it struck a chord, didn’t it? And that means, necessarily, there must be a chord to be struck in the first place. A gay chord, specifically. Or at least a bisexual chord. Either way.’

Hermione wasn’t really paying attention. She was relieved when they reached the infirmary, finally, and when she was able to collapse onto the bed that Madam Pomfrey briskly escorted her to upon seeing her.

The matron was muttering to herself as she felt Hermione’s neck and forehead and soon she was rushing off to the potions cabinet.

‘Now, we don’t want you to get better,’ Draco said quietly, eyeing Hermione intensely. ‘So you’re not actually going to drink those potions.’

Hermione nodded.

‘Well, you might want to faint or something, then, Granger,’ Draco whispered frantically.

She nodded and shut her eyes, letting her head fall back into the pillow, and let her entire body go limp.

She was vaguely aware of Draco still at her side, and when Madam Pomfrey approached her bed.

‘Sorry, matron. Looks like she’s totally out of it.’

‘Oh, dear…’

‘You know, you look busy. If you want me to hang about, I’ll stay by her side, and get her to take the potions when she wakes up.’

The matron hesitated. 

‘Well, just call me when she wakes up, okay?’

Draco must have nodded because the matron left her bedside to tend to her other patients. Then she heard light footsteps around her bed, and the sound of the curtains being drawn around her bed. She opened one eye to see Draco pulling up a chair beside her pillow.

He was still chatting away as he pulled out his wand and tapped the potions with the end, muttering a spell under his breath. ‘This is just going to remove the effects of the potion, don’t worry. Learnt it for potions a few years back, used to do it to all my classmates’ work, Snape would be bloody furious with them every time…’ he chuckled softly. ‘So, uh, you have the cures in your pocket, yeah? I’d say take them and leave around midnight. Then come back at sort of… six in the morning, or something. It’s a Monday tomorrow, people will be too knackered to get up early, castle should be fairly empty… ‘specially after their activities on Valentine’s Day, am I right?’

Hermione groaned.

‘Yeah, good, well, good luck and everything, hope all this was worth it, just for a shag…’ he sighed. ‘Old Lupin must be pretty good, eh? Pros of being with an older man, I suppose, knows his way around.’

Hermione shot him an icy look as best she could. Draco smirked at her.

‘Anyway. So, how funny was it, Potter’s face, back there? God, he’s pathetic. So easy to wind up. Does he ever talk about me? Behind my back? I bet he does, the speccy git. I bet he’s always talking shit. Honestly. Probably bores people to absolute death with it…’

As Draco rambled on, Hermione felt herself being carried away by the fatiguing effects of the sweets she’d taken, and soon a darkness fell over her sight and she fell gently asleep.

-

When she awoke, it was dark. She sat up in bed. The canopies around her were still drawn, and the potions sat untouched on her bedside table. It appeared as though she’d been left alone. 

Before getting out of bed she rummaged around in her jean pockets for the cures and stuffed them into her mouth, ignoring how sick she still felt. Her recovery was gradual, but noticeable; she felt better by the second as she kicked away the blankets and tiptoed towards the curtains, peeking outside. The infirmary was dark, and there was no sign of Madam Pomfrey, or any visitors. A quick glance at the wall clock told her it was half past eleven.

This would do fine.

She crept out into the infirmary and towards the doors. Locked. She drew her wand.

‘Alohomora,’ she whispered.

Thank God it worked. 

She winced as it opened with a groaning creak, but nobody stirred. She closed it soundly, and headed down the corridors at a quick pace, her footsteps light and soft but her heart thudding.

Her journey to Remus’s rooms was short, and nobody was around to ruin her plans, but she couldn’t quite remember feeling so terrified. All the hairs on the back of her neck were erect; she jumped at shadows, or the slightest movement of one of the sleeping paintings. None of them confronted her. She was navigating the darkness, and she supposed none had even noticed her presence.

It was a few minutes before reaching his room that she heard the sound of somebody breathing.

She stopped. She felt sick. She didn’t know whether it was the effects of the sweets, or the very potential possibility she had just been caught. Her heart paused. She paled.

She stood in place for what felt like an eternity, perfectly still, and quite unable to move. But after a few seconds of nothingness, she dared look round. 

Absolutely nothing.

Was she hearing things? It was very possible she was inventing her own terror, her anxieties materialising through her own anxiousness. 

She shook her head, and resisted the urge to let out a deep breath, and continued her journey.

She tapped her wand against Remus’s door hurriedly and crept inside, closing it silently behind her. 

It was then she knew she was safe.

And that sense of absolute safety came all at once; the soft music playing on the record player told her that Remus had already applied the appropriate muffling charms to the room, and she finally breathed, leaning her head against the door and closing her eyes as she let out a deep, long sigh.

‘Oh. Hello.’

She opened her eyes and gazed around the room, seeking the source of the voice. But she was overwhelmed with the sight of the place; two dozen deep red candles hung in the air, each dripping with little droplets of wax and emitting a small, gorgeous glow; the fireplace in the corner was crackling wonderfully and filled the room with a strong smoky smell, fresh chunks of wood burning beautifully in the flames. Apparently Remus had been decorating, too; his once-bare cabinets had been slowly filling with odd little trinkets and jewels and books flooded his desk and table, and blankets and pillows and throws and rugs had been tossed frivolously around the furniture.

And, amongst all of this, there Remus was – curled up on his couch, a book in his lap.

‘Remus… I…’

‘I’ve been waiting,’ he said, smiling and closing the book shut, tossing it aside.

‘Well, yes, I can see that,’ Hermione breathed. ‘You did all this?’

He shrugged. ‘You said to be ready.’

She nodded wordlessly.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said softly. ‘We don’t have much time.’

She watched him as he stood from the couch. He was barefoot, mostly undressed, but a silky, deep-blue dressing gown cloaked his frame. In the warm, golden glow of the fireplace and the candlelight, he looked utterly glorious. She felt her chest rise and fall.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she said.

He grinned. He was pacing towards her.

‘It’s alright. Just seeing you is already more than worth it.’

She was about to respond but her words were cut off by his lips pressing against hers, his hand lifting to stroke her cheek. 

‘Do you need anything?’ he asked suddenly, his lips breaking from hers for a second, though still hovering inches away. His voice was breathy, and his eyes were darker. She wondered what the question was.

‘Is that…’ Hermione looked at him, her eyes tracing the length of his body. ‘Are you trying to get me to say I need you? I need you to fuck me, Remus?’

He blinked at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement, and his eyes glinting with a definite excitement.

‘I, um,’ he stammered, the heat in his face rising. ‘Well, that would be very nice, but I was actually asking if you’d like something to eat or drink or…’ he blinked. ‘A bath, or a… massage, or something,’ he said, his eyes on the floor.

She giggled at him, and he looked at her sternly.

‘Don’t give me that look,’ she said, not bothering to conceal her smile.

‘What look?’

‘Your serious, professor look.’

He pursed his lips. 

‘Hermione, I’m trying to be romantic here,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘And you assume I just want you on your hands and knees. I’m quite offended.’

‘And now you’re using your serious, professor voice,’ she laughed.

‘Alright then. That’s it. Hands and knees, then. On the floor.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Remus. I’d love – a – um – massage.’

It was a strange thing to ask for. It felt strange asking, despite all they’d done so far. She wasn’t sure why.

But Remus had already strolled off towards his bathroom and as he momentarily disappeared she kicked off her shoes and socks by the door and headed towards the fireplace, where a thick fur rug had been placed on the floor beside it. She sat down on it, stroking the wonderfully soft fabric with her fingers. 

He appeared again, holding several bottles of something. He smiled at her sat down by the fire and joined her side. 

‘Sorry, love, but… I’m afraid you’ll need to take your clothes off for this to work.’

‘I’m sure I’ll cope,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Can you help?’

He practically jumped at the request, his hands gripping the bottom of her jumper and pulling it over her head. His fingers wound around her back and unclasped her bra, and he tossed the fabric somewhere across the room. Then he went for her jeans, tugging the tight denim off of her legs, her knickers coming off with them.

She should have expected to end up fully naked within a few minutes of meeting Remus, but she was never really able to fully prepare for it.

She wondered whether his dick was hard. She couldn’t tell underneath his dressing gown. She contemplated checking with her hands, or maybe her tongue, but he was moving her onto her stomach, lying face down on the rug.

And then a cold, thick liquid dripped onto her back, and a floral, fragrant scent filled her head. And then his hands had mixed with the oil and he was rubbing it in long, hard strokes into her skin, down her spine and around her shoulders, into her neck as he pushed back her hair, briefly down her arms, and for a prolonged time into her backside. More oil, and more rubbing; the pressure of his touch grew, and he was pressing deeply into the curvatures of her back, his knuckles at the crease of her neck, working out a tension she never even knew was there. She felt as though she were melting into the rug as he worked his hands into her skin, groaning with pleasure and relief, shivering with the occasional teasing touch of his fingernails up and down her spine.

And then he was pouring another oil into her lower back and he was rubbing it gently against her backside and down to her thighs, his thumbs only inches away from her pussy, and she gasped when his fingers pressed closer towards her – but not close enough. He was taking his time, and her time, and he was having his fun before they really got into it.

And then he tossed her onto her back effortlessly, as though she didn’t weigh a thing, and he straddled her hips. As he leant forward his dressing gown fell open in the front and she eyed his chest, but it was still enclosed around his hips.

He poured the oil in generous dashes along the waves of her collarbones and began to grind it into her breasts, and she moaned helplessly, his fingers lightly digging into her chest, his thumbs stroking her nipples, his palms stroking her tummy and abdomen and all the way from her neck to her pelvis. His wet, hot hands cupped her hips and he lifted her thighs, opening her legs, and smoothed the liquid up and down from her hips to her knees.

And, of course, she was groaning and squirming, her arms outstretched and gripping the rug underneath her, her back arched and her head stretching backwards, her body reacting and obeying to every little thing he did to her. And, of course, when he thrust two fingers into her throbbing pussy she screamed out in pleasure, her body tensing with anticipation after being so utterly relaxed.

As his fingers pressed into her and pulled out, his thumb brushing against her clit, his other hand gripping her thigh to keep her still, she stared at him and that damn dressing gown. Before she was close to coming, she slipped a hand between her legs and gripped his wrist. He looked at her.

‘You alright?’ he said, stopping.

‘Do it properly,’ she said, flashing her eyebrows and glancing at the knot he’d tied around his hips. 

He studied her for a moment and, submitting, nodded and leant backwards on his knees. She didn’t take her eyes off of him for a second. He grappled at the knot at his waist and loosened the belt, and shrugged the gown off his shoulders. She shivered, her gaze on every inch of his body, particularly his hard, throbbing dick.

He crawled on top of her, aligning himself with her, nestling himself between her legs; he slowly, tentatively pressed his cock inside of her, and out, and in again in long, slow thrusts. She moaned with every fill, his name on her lips. 

Remus could be so loving. One hand was entangled in her hair, his fingers occasionally brushing against her scalp. As he made love to her he planted kisses along her neck and chest, and would sometimes pause, prolonging the time he was inside of her, to meet her lips and kiss her gently, his tongue in her mouth and hers in his.

She came once during; she’d made a mess of herself, lunging her head backwards and shouting his name amongst high-pitched moans and gasps, her thighs weak and quivering and pleasure flooding her body. The dampness between her legs began to coat the innards of her thighs and only made the feeling of Remus fucking her feel even better.

When she came for the second time, Remus held on so they could finish together. Together, in a chaos of screaming and groaning and breathing deeply and audibly, they simultaneously felt themselves exhaust with absolute gratification. Remus collapsed beside her, visibly spent, his whole body flushed and glistening with sweat and oil. Hermione’s own body was pink and hot and wet, particularly between her legs. She shifted to turn herself towards the man beside her, and felt the fluids begin to rush downward and dampen the rug underneath her. It was a strange, but intensely satisfying feeling.

‘So worth it,’ she breathed, tracing the curve of his collarbone with her index finger. He smiled, humming at her words and her touch.

‘Want to go to bed?’ he asked, his hand on her waist and gently stroking her hips.

She sighed. She was so exhausted, and so happy here, she couldn’t be bothered to move.

He seemingly read her mind. 

‘We can stay here, if you really want to,’ he said, smirking. ‘Hold on.’

He groaned as he crawled onto his hands and knees and reached for his wand sat on the coffee table. He muttered a few spells lazily under his breath, and a few pillows and blankets flew across the room, landing between them. He tossed them over their naked bodies, and, one by one, the candles began to go out. The fireplace’s flames began to reduce.

Soon, the room was dark and all she could make out was the faint image of Remus asleep beside her, his legs and arms entwined with her own.


	32. Red-Handed

Hermione Granger was a morning person. But that morning was one of the hardest mornings she’d ever had to contend with. 

She woke at seven. She was late. She needed to get back to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey would be there any minute, if she hadn’t already realised she’d disappeared.

Remus lay at her side, still asleep and snoring gently. Her heart began to thud as she realised the time, and where she was, and where she needed to be. She quickly but carefully removed herself from under the blankets and hurried around the room, picking her clothes from the floor and dressing as fast as she could.

Remus stirred and groaned as he woke, blinking at her tiredly as she jogged about the room, half-dressed.

‘What time s’it?’

‘Seven,’ she said shortly, jumping up and down as she pulled on her jeans.

He grunted. Then, after a moment, he gasped.

‘Shit!’ he said, kicking the blankets off his legs. ‘Shit! Hermione, we’re late!’

‘I’m late, you mean!’ she snapped, feeling her hair and grimacing as she realised it was in full-frizz mode. Still, she didn’t have the time to fix it.

‘I do have teaching, you know,’ he said, scowling and leaping to his feet.

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘With you. First thing.’

‘We better…’

‘Yeah.’

They considered each other for a moment. Then Remus cleared his throat, and headed off to the shower. Hermione took that as an invitation to make her leave.

She opened the door nervously, and peered out, checking either side of the corridor, before tiptoeing out and closing the door quietly. At seven o’clock most people were getting out of bed or getting dressed and showered. Some early birds were at breakfast already. She prayed she wouldn’t be noticed, but she stuck out like a sore thumb in her weekend clothes while everyone else would be in their robes.

She made her way down the corridor at a light jog, ignoring the paintings’ dreary-eyed stares. Hopefully they wouldn’t put two and two together. 

Unfortunately, the corridors were beginning to fill up with students. 

She elected not to take the shortcuts – they were the paths most commonly taken. She took the roads less travelled, her journey taking uncomfortably longer than she hoped. But she simply couldn’t risk bumping into her friends or professors. She couldn’t avoid the students of Hogwarts altogether, though, and caught a lot of funny glares as she strutted past them, trying desperately to look nonchalant and confident, but she feared her anxiety was seeping into her expression.

The doors to the infirmary were open when she got there.

Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she felt positively ill. She poked her head round the door to see where Madam Pomfrey was, and whether her disappearance had been noticed.

The curtains to her bed were open. She’d been discovered.

That was it, then.

Immediately she began to focus her thoughts. As she entered the room nervously, and made her way towards the matron to begin explaining herself, a million lies arose at once; she began to weave the loose ends together into narratives, filtering out the implausible and the unlikely until she was left with at least one big story she could spin. She wasn’t left with much by the time she’d approached Madam Pomfrey.

‘Uh…’ Hermione began, feeling the colour drain from her face.

The matron spun on her feet, and turned to face Hermione.

‘Ah! There you are, Miss Granger.’

Hermione felt sick.

‘Yeah, well, I was just…’

‘Yes, I know, dear, you don’t have to tell me, I don’t need the gory details. Now, I notice you haven’t taken your potions and no wonder, you’re looking positively peaky. Come on.’

Hermione stared at her. She knew? She knew what? How could she possibly know? 

‘Granger!’

That voice rang in her ears, and she immediately relaxed. She turned and saw Draco peering at her, looking almost impossibly casual.

‘Don’t worry. I let Madam Pomfrey know you’d ran off to the loo. My, what did you eat? You were in there ages.’

Madam Pomfrey didn’t look at all bothered. She’d placed a hand on Hermione’s back to encourage her towards her bed. Hermione caught Draco’s eyebrows flash ever so slightly, but apart from that, he was wearing the most impressive poker face she’d ever seen. He was a fantastic liar when we wanted to be.

More importantly, he’d covered for her. He’d gotten to the infirmary earlier than she had, and covered for her. A warm swelling of gratitude flooded her chest, and she gazed at him in what she hoped was a meaningful way.

Hermione climbed back into the bed and guzzled the potions of absolutely no effect, and mumbled a few answers in response to a couple of general questions from the matron. When Madam Pomfrey finally bustled away, Draco sidled up to her, his stoic expression now bursting with wide eyes and a grin stretching ear from ear.

‘I take it you had a good evening?’ he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes, and nodded shortly. 

He beamed.

‘I expect details, Granger. It’s only fair, you owe me one.’

She shook her head and sighed. It was true, though. He’d been a very good friend to her.

Draco was studying her, nostrils flared.

‘Do I smell… flowers?’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Or is that… lotion?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He nodded amusedly. ‘Yeah, sure. Hey, might want to shower, though. Just a tip. You smell like sex.’

‘Shut up.’

-

After making a miraculous recovery after taking her potions, Hermione headed out to her common room to shower and change and get ready for her first lesson. She barely had time to attend breakfast, and headed towards DADA feeling oddly nervous, though still overwhelmed with a wonderful satisfaction from the night before.

In fact, it wasn’t all that odd, her nervousness. She and her professor were breaking about a billion rules, real ones with consequences and moral ones, also with consequences. God, it was exciting though, breaking the rules. She’d been so good all her life, so well-behaved, a by-the-book, do-what-she’s-told kind of girl. It was utterly liberating, and utterly thrilling, doing something so… naughty.

She swallowed her anxiety as best she could as she nonchalantly entered her classroom, eyes on the ground, and took her seat at the front. Remus was at his desk. He always greeted everyone who entered with a smile, maybe a ‘how’re you doing?’, maybe some light conversation if he liked them enough. To Hermione, he glanced up, flashed his eyebrows ever so quickly, and turned his gaze back to the papers in front of him.

His little look sent a rush of warmth through her chest, her heart thudding. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Maybe it was residue emotion from the night before, but he looked especially glorious today. His hair was still wet from a late shower, tousled and messy, a five o’clock shadow darkening his face, his eyes tired and blinking – but a notable happiness in his demeanour, in the way he moved and the expressions he made to himself as he appeared to be lost in thought. I did that, Hermione thought to herself.

Draco was relatively well-behaved all lesson, focusing his questions and comments to Hermione and Hermione only. However, her other friends were irritating. As soon as practical learning started, and they were allowed to stand from their chairs and practise their spells around the classroom, Ron and Harry immediately approached her and bombarded her with questions about her health, ailment and recovery. Draco’s intervention the day before hadn’t gone down well with Harry at all, either, and he was noticeably quiet and icy, letting Ron do all the talking as he glared at the Slytherin with a look that could kill. Draco seemed to relish it.

The lesson was, to Hermione’s relief, relatively uneventful. She filled Draco in on whatever details he wanted, and that was the end of that.

-

That was the end of that. Of course, until the 24th of February, the day of the full moon.

After little discussion and even less thought, Hermione decided to pull the same shtick and fake a rapidly developing illness once again. Just like on Valentine’s Day, she was dragged to the hospital wing – this time by Harry and Ron, well-meaning and totally oblivious to her true intentions – and she waited up all night before creeping out and making her way to Remus’s rooms. She’d perfected her invisibility charm, and felt rather safe navigating the dark hallways unseen under her cloak.

Remus had been expecting her, of course, and had taken all the necessary measures to ensure her presence was unknown. She’d barely entered the room before he’d pulled her into his arms, whisked her off her feet and carried her to his bed, throwing her onto the sheets and undressing her, her clothes torn from her body, until his hands were gripping her hips as he thrust himself inside of her and made love to her for hours.

After coming, Remus had collapsed to her side and fallen asleep. She watched him for a long time, and then looked up at the stars. 

His room was still enchanted. The ceiling of the canopy bed was transparent, and the ceiling of his bedroom was still mimicking the Great Hall; the dark February sky was lit up with the silver disk of the moon and all its stars bathing in its brilliance. 

She remembered her weekend in Silverlake, standing in that forest clearing with Remus and wondering if life got any better. She gazed at the stars, and then looked at the gently snoring man lying next to her, his chest rising and falling gently under the bedcovers, the warmth of his body mingling with her own. She had been so wrong before. This was the best life could be, right now, in this moment.

Hermione didn’t sleep much that night. She was filled with an odd energy, and decided to observe Remus’s painless transformation. She’d always been asleep when it happened, and she was curious as to how it would be.

She got out of bed and stood, grabbing the t-shirt Remus had been wearing off the floor and pulling it over herself, and watched him. It was truly interesting.

She half-expected him not to transform at all – but that was silly. Sex before the full moon was hardly a cure for lycanthropy. She watched as the thick fur slowly, ever so slowly, emerged from his flesh. His bones shifting under his skin, the changing formation of his skeleton was stunning smooth, slow and quiet – no hideous clicking and crushing noises as his bones broke and snapped into shape as she’d witnessed before. The full transformation took a long time. Remus wasn’t awoken by it at all. He remained dead to the world, peaceful and still.

She climbed back into bed, despite feeling strange about lying next to a giant wolf. She stroked his fur gently and, at some point, fell asleep herself.

She woke to the sensation of Remus’s lips gently pressed against hers. It was half past five – Remus had set an alarm this time – which gave the both of them plenty of time to get ready. Hermione headed back to the infirmary unnoticed and undetected, arousing utterly no suspicion.

She got away with it. Yet another night of euphoria. She couldn’t believe her luck.

But it wasn’t enough.

Hermione felt as though she was beginning to lose her mind.

Before seeing Remus, she felt the heights of extreme excitement and nerves, as though she were about to skydive; when she saw him, in lesson or in the Great Hall, she longed to climb on top of him, to be inside of him, for him to be inside of her. When she wasn’t with him, she ached for him. She began to charm the canopies around her bed with silence and immobility charms so she could have some privacy as she pleasured herself to thoughts of him.

She was driven utterly crazy, consumed with her inner world of thoughts and fantasies. She wondered if he was suffering half as much as she was. He seemed absolutely unaffected in lessons – almost infuriatingly normal, in fact.

She’d ordered more of the Weasley’s Skiving Snackbox Sweets from the local branch, and was elated when her owl dropped the parcel onto her plate one morning. It’d been barely a week since the full moon, the last night she’d spent with him, but she needed him. No matter how much she tried to picture it was Remus’s fingers inside of her, his hands on her breasts and thighs instead of hers, it wasn’t enough.

She fleetingly mentioned her plan to surprise Remus on Saturday night to Draco, on one of their cosy meetings in the library. His reaction was unexpected.

‘You’re going again? This soon?’ he said, his eyebrows miles high.

She nodded, sighing deeply. ‘Yes. Yes, I know I sound desperate but… God, Draco, you don’t get it. Being with him is just…’ she breathed.

Draco snorted. ‘Yeah, it’s not that, Granger. I don’t have a problem with you being thirsty. In fact, I actively encourage it, you little slut, you.’

Hermione scowled at him. ‘What’s the problem, then?’

‘It’s been, what, a week?’

‘Eight days,’ Hermione corrected him. 

‘Poor thing,’ Draco said sarcastically. ‘Eight days. Don’t you think it might look a little suspicious after a while? Falling strangely ill, always with the same symptoms, with no apparent cause? And nobody is affected by this awful virus that seems to target only you every fortnight?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Well, it’s the only way.’

Draco shook his head. ‘Listen. You can’t pull a sickie every time you fancy a shag. You’re going to get caught, sooner or later.’

But Hermione didn’t listen. After all, why should she? She was smarter than Draco. She was smarter than pretty much everyone, in fact. And she was smart enough to get what she wanted.

So that night she fell ill once again, going to the infirmary once again, and followed the same old routine. She waited up until everyone else in the hospital wing fell asleep, cloaked herself with some invisibility spells, and crept out of the room and into the castle.

She was confident, now. She knew where she was going, how long it took to get there, which paintings to look out for, which floorboards would creak under her feet and which would offer her a quiet journey. It was almost too easy.

She was a few minutes away from Remus’s rooms when she almost leapt out of her skin.

It was as though she’d walked into an ice cold bath. Her whole body shuddered horribly and she clasped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from letting a gasp escape her lips. She gazed around the corridor. What on earth was that?

Then breathing. The sound of somebody or something breathing. She’d heard it before. She always heard it around here. She assumed it was a particularly loud painting, one that snored in their sleep, but…

A bright, pale figure suddenly materialised. A short, fat, squat little man, with a horrible grin stretched across his face, his eyes wild and manic with exhilaration. He was staring at Hermione, his grin sly and sinister, floating in the air with his legs crossed and his hands clasped together excitedly.

‘Peeves!’ Hermione whispered. ‘What – what are you doing?’

‘Could ask you the same thing, Granger!’ he said, his voice hushed, thankfully. Hermione’s heart was thudding. He could see through her spell. If that was his breathing she’d heard all these weeks, every time she’d snuck to Remus’s rooms at night…

‘Now, what’s naughty little Granger up to, hmm? Sneaking around the castle at night, always taking the same way, I’ve followed you, you know, at least as far as I can… I can’t go beyond that corridor, you see…’

He pointed his stubby finger towards the nearest corridor that led to the professors’ rooms.

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed. 

‘Ooooh, bad, is it? I’ll tell you what, let’s make a little deal, quid pro quo – you tell me what you’ve been up to and I don’t scream!’

‘I – Peeves, don’t you dare!’

‘Now, now, Granger, what am I supposed to think? For all I know you could be up to something terrible, absolutely terrible… risking the safety of Hogwarts, perhaps!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Hermione spat.

‘Tell the truth, then!’

‘Get lost, Peeves.’

‘Come on!’

He stared at her. She took a deep breath. ‘I – I’m just going to the library. I like it when it’s quiet.’

‘Liar!’ Peeves whispered.

‘Okay, okay. I go to the restricted section.’

‘Liar! Liar!’ Peeves said, his voice louder this time. Hermione’s heart was in her throat.

‘I – okay, I meet Draco Malfoy there, it’s where we meet to… you know.’ 

‘Liar!’ Peeves said, his voice even louder, almost a shout, his voice shrill. Hermione stared around the castle. He’d waken a few of the paintings around them.

‘It’s true!’ she said angrily. ‘I’m not lying! It’s where Draco and I meet to get some privacy!’

‘Liar, liar, pants on fire!’ Peeves screamed.

Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the poltergeist. He giggled at her and began to spin in the air, still screaming.

‘Student out of bed! Student out of bed! Granger danger, Granger danger!’ he squealed at the top of his lungs.

‘Mimblewimble!’ Hermione cried. A flash of light burst from her wand and wrapped round the ghost’s neck. His screaming stopped – his mouth opened and closed like a fish – he grabbed his neck and face and stared angrily at her. 

But it was too late.

From the far end of the corridor, the torches lining the walls alit one by one, a growing orange light filling the hallway. Half a dozen figures were fast approaching her and Peeves.

Her invisibility shield had been broken. If her presence was made obvious, it was easy to see through. She removed the spell quickly, as though showing herself would lessen the punishment she was about to receive.

Hermione felt positively nauseous when she found herself with six pairs of eyes on her. McGonagall, in her nightie, Snape, Remus, and two other professors she wasn’t personally taught by had been alerted by Peeve’s alarm. The poltergeist was still glaring at her, though he seemed more amused than annoyed at this moment in time.

‘Miss Granger!’ McGonagall barked. ‘What on earth are you doing out at this hour?’

Remus had his eyes fixed on Hermione. Although, it was almost as though he was making a conscious effort to look at her, as though staring at his shoes shamefully would give the game away. She didn’t blame him – Snape was here, after all, and he was watching everyone and everything like a hawk.

Hermione was lost for answers. Did she lie? Of course she had to lie. She could hardly tell five professors and a poltergeist she was meeting one of their party for surprise sex in the middle of the night.

She considered spinning her professors the same tale as before – that she’d planned to meet Draco – but she couldn’t quite make her thoughts words. For some reason, her mouth had decided to stop working.

‘Well?’ Snape drawled disinterestedly.

Hermione shifted on her feet. 

‘Miss Granger, you should really begin to start explaining yourself, immediately!’ McGonagall shrilled.

‘I… uh…’

The professors stared blankly at her as she struggled to find the right words.

‘I was going to the library,’ she said finally, her voice little more than a whisper.

Snape raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.

McGonagall considered her for a moment.

‘The library? You’re going to the library?’

‘I… well, the restricted section,’ Hermione said, her head bowed.

‘This is hardly the quickest way to the library, Granger, you must know that,’ Snape said. She glared at him. He was wearing black night robes that looked almost identical to the ones he wore during the day. He didn’t look at all tired or drowsy, either, as though he hadn’t been to sleep yet. Remus, however, looked positively exhausted. He was skewwhiff and bedraggled, sporting a hideous pair of worn and torn pyjamas.

‘Yeah, well… it’s got the quietest paintings,’ Hermione said.

‘How do you know that? Do you do this often?’ McGonagall asked suddenly.

‘I hear Miss Granger has fallen mysteriously ill repeatedly over the last month or so,’ Snape said, his voice filled with a cruel mock sympathy that made Hermione’s blood boil. ‘Why, Madam Pomfrey has been ever so worried. Perhaps she shouldn’t be…’

McGonagall had her face in her hands, rubbing her temples.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘You have been making yourself ill – by means quite against the rules, I presume – with the intention of sneaking around at night, to scour the restricted section?’ 

Hermione shrugged a yes.

McGonagall sighed. ‘Granger, I’m far too tired to talk through your punishment right now, but I can assure you it will be appropriately unpleasant. You’ll meet with me tomorrow to discuss your prefect status.’

Her prefect status? Admittedly she did care about that, but… it wasn’t as bad as she assumed. Being a prefect was all responsibility and no reward at the moment, and besides, she had other priorities to attend to.

‘Not to mention a series of detentions. How many, we’ll discuss that too.’

‘You’re being rather quiet, Lupin,’ Snape said suddenly.

Remus looked up suddenly, looking quite surprised.

‘Just tired,’ he said, scratching his scalp. ‘Listen, my students have all been incredibly well-behaved lately, I’ve given out no detentions to speak of for months… I’d be more than happy to have Miss Granger around my classroom to make up for that.’

Snape stared at him studiously. But McGonagall, and the other professors, seemed too tired to care.

‘Right. That’s settled, then. Off to bed, Granger. Do you need escorting?’

She shook her head, but it wasn’t a real question.

‘I will escort you,’ McGonagall said, pointing towards the direction from which she came. Hermione was led not to the infirmary, but to her common room, where the door was locked behind her after she was ordered to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I took so long to update! Been hideously busy lately, and I hope to find more time to regularly update for the next few chapters.


	33. Punishment

She’d finally been caught out.

The confrontation she’d walked into that night had rattled her into sobriety, and now she looked back on her actions and behaviour over the last few weeks with remorse and disdain. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid, so reckless. She was deeply embarrassed. 

McGonagall had pulled her out of breakfast that morning and revoked her prefect status. She’d passed over her badge reluctantly, and luckily the look on her face hadn’t tempted anyone to ask what had happened. She was to be given a week’s worth of detentions – maybe more, depending on how they felt – with Remus. She didn’t quite know how she felt about that.

Conveniently – or not, depending on how you looked at it – her last lesson was DADA, directly preceding the beginnings of her detentions. Remus had ignored her for the entire session. She sat welded to her seat as everyone else packed up and disappeared, shooting her looks as they walked past.

Remus sat in his chair at his desk for a long time. The two sat in silence. Hermione stared at him helplessly, as he rummaged through his papers and scribbled away at various sheets of parchment.

The clock ticked in the corner, and Hermione began to feel her humiliation deepen. 

Eventually, Remus neatly stacked his pile of papers onto the middle of the desk and let out a sigh. She gazed at him. He lent back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap, and finally looked at her.

‘What were you thinking.’

It wasn’t a question. She pursed her lips and broke her gaze, staring at the floor.

‘Mm?’

She shook her head ever so slightly. Either Remus didn’t see, or he decided that that wasn’t nearly sufficient as a response, because he cleared his throat rather abruptly, and raised his voice.

‘Well?’

She shrugged.

‘Hermione, do you have any idea what could have happened? How much trouble you could have got yourself in? The both of us?’

‘You might want to lower your voice,’ she said shortly, still not meeting his gaze.

She heard him snort, and stand up from his desk.

‘Muffling charms. Surrounding the entire classroom. Because, apparently, unlike you, I take precautions. I think things through.’

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.

‘Every time we’ve planned to meet, do you think I just sit in my room waiting? No. Of course I fucking don’t. I’ve made sure the corridors have been empty, I’ve charmed the paintings, I’ve applied all kinds of spells and charms to keep you from getting caught on your way. How did you possibly think you could get away with it so easily? Do you have any idea – the lengths I’ve gone to – Snape sniffing around, giving me filthy looks, making snide little comments…’ she heard him sigh. He was pacing now, and his tone was growing angrier. ‘And you think you can just pop in and it’s absolutely fine. Hermione, for someone so clever, you really are remarkably capable of being quite stupid.’

Hermione looked at him. ‘So is this going to be the content of my detentions, Remus?’ she said, cocking her head slightly to the side. ‘Lecturing me about how stupid and reckless I am?’

He studied her for a moment, his arms crossed. His body language was very unlike the Remus she’d grown used to. He was very stiff, and stern, his face hardened into a scowl, his eyes narrow and piercing.

‘You really think it’s appropriate to get mouthy with me?’ he snapped. 

‘I don’t just meet you for my own selfish gain, Remus,’ she spat. ‘If you recall, I was there on the night of the full moon-’

‘I know,’ Remus interrupted, his voice suddenly softer. He looked rather flustered, and shook his head as though to shake him out of his sudden lapse. ‘But you got careless. You assumed you could strut about the castle, breaking a thousand different rules all at once, and risk all our livelihoods. You realise I could get fired, hmm? Do you realise how lucky I am that I have a job? With my condition? Do you have any idea about the stigma that follows me around? If this got out, I…’

‘Look, I know, I get it,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I know I was stupid. I won’t make the same mistake, okay?’

He looked at her somewhat sceptically. She gazed at him, hoping she could melt his exterior.

‘I’m so sorry, Remus.’

His chest rose and fell as he breathed out a long sigh. ‘And while you’re apologising, you can thank me for saving you from a month’s detentions in the dungeons.’

‘Thank you.’

He nodded. 

‘You got away lightly, to say the least,’ he mumbled. 

She nodded. She was sat at her desk still, her hands stuffed in her lap and her head bowed. Remus looked at her.

‘Right. Well, you better start making yourself useful around here.’

She nodded again. ‘What do you want me to do?’

He cocked an eyebrow, and went over to his desk. With one brisk movement, he swept everything – every object that sat on the table – onto the floor. She stared at him in disbelief.

He nodded at the mess. ‘You can sort that out.’

She glared at him. ‘What the fuck, Remus?’

‘And you can stop calling me that,’ he said casually.

She almost laughed. ‘What?’ she said, standing from her chair and stalking across the room towards him. 

‘My first name. Stop it.’

‘What – why?’ she spluttered.

‘Have you forgotten already that you are in detention, Miss Granger?’ he said, his voice curt. She was stood right in front of him now, glaring up at him. He was stood at his full height, but his hands were stuffed in his pockets, gazing down at her with only a tiny glimpse of amusement glinting in his eye.

‘I – I’m not tidying that up,’ she said, crossing her arms.

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ she said, her lips pursed. ‘Remus.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Oh, what would you prefer me to call you, then, hmm?’ she asked, rolling her eyes.

‘I think Sir would be appropriate.’

‘Sir?’ she scoffed. 

He nodded.

‘Alright, then, Sir,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Or, would you prefer Professor? Or Mr. Lupin?’

‘Any of those will do nicely,’ he said. ‘Go on. Enough moaning.’

‘I’m not tidying that up, Sir,’ she said. ‘Like I said.’

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity. She held his gaze. God, she was angry. He was asserting all his power, all his influence, disregarding all they had – he was picking and choosing what to utilise and what to ignore from the nature of their relationship, and she had a heavy feeling he was enjoying every second of it. She wasn’t going to be pushed that easily.

She watched him breathe a sharp intake of breath.

‘What am I going to do with you?’ he said, his voice notably lower.

‘Oh – fuck off, Remus,’ she said, reddening. His voice had suddenly sent a thrill down her spine and a heat to her thighs, and she hated the fact he was acutely aware of that.

‘What did you just say?’ he said, taking a step closer, removing the distance between them. She felt him hardening, and her heart and breath began to quicken.

‘I, uh…’

‘I think you’ve been a very bad girl, Hermione.’

She snorted, giggling hopelessly, her face flushed red.

‘Really, Remus?’ She said. ‘Sorry – really, Sir? Is this one big turn on for you?’

He smirked and pressed his lips against hers, a messy, chaotic kiss, all tongues and teeth. She moaned helplessly, rocking her hips against his hard-on pressing into her pelvis.

‘Are you going to punish me, professor?’ she said, unable to utter the words without giggling at the absurdity of what she saying.

‘Take off your uniform,’ he said sharply, pulling apart and staggering back to perch on his desk.

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said, smirking and heading back towards him. She grabbed at his belt and began to wrestle with the buckle, but he took her wrists and removed her grasp. 

‘No. Do as I said.’

She blinked at him. She knelt down to untie the laces on her shoes and step out of them, and pulled down her socks. She shrugged off her cloak, pulled her jumper over her head and fumbled with her tie, her fingers clumsy with nerves and excitement. She wriggled out of her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse, and took her hands to the crease of her spine where she undid the clasps of her bra. Before she could pull down her knickers, Remus had stepped up again and grabbed her by the waist, his eyes hungry and dark.

He’d moved her so effortlessly and swiftly she barely had time to recognise what was going on, but in a second she found herself draped over his desk, her breasts squashed up against the surface of the table, her hands gripping the sides to steady herself. Fuck, she was wet. Why did she like him like this so much? She didn’t know why but God, she did.

He’d taken the hem of her underwear and tugged them gently over the curve of her backside and past her thighs, where they fell to her ankles. His hand was stroking her arse and she realised what he was planning.

‘Are you going to spank me?’ she gasped.

He didn’t answer at first, but instead dropped a hand between her thighs and ran his fingers across her folds, making her shiver. 

‘Are you okay with that?’ he said, still stroking her pussy gently.

She was a mess. She’d fantasised about this, rather shamefully, and she couldn’t remember being quite so excited and embarrassed at the same time.

‘Oh God,’ she moaned, growing ever more frustrated by the second. ‘Do whatever you want to me.’

He chuckled and suddenly the palm of his hand had slapped her in the centre of her backside, making her whole body jolt. It hadn’t been hard – the upward, perfect amount of pressure had sent a spike through her body, stimulating something in her front that had sent a spasm of pleasure through her; she was throbbing and so wet and warm, and she hadn’t quite finished relishing the bizarre, intense delight she had been instilled with before he’d slapped her again, making her gasp and splutter, and again, until she was quivering and moaning, begging to be spanked again.

After a few more slaps her arse was hot and numb, and presumably red. She simply breathed for a while, recovering from her orgasm, her body limp and sweaty and sticking to the wood underneath her.

Then Remus had his hands all over her again and had rolled her onto her back, where he parted her legs. She desperately wanted to sit up and take off all his clothes herself, but she was too spent to move, and instead watched him hungrily as he just dragged his trousers and briefs over his erection and thrusted himself into her. She loved and hated how good he was at having sex with her. The first night they’d spent together had been wonderful, but it just got better – the more he got to know her body, what she liked, what spots to hit, where to touch her… she couldn’t help but give all of herself over, to open up entirely.

When he finished, he zipped himself back up and staggered back, breathing heavily and looking thoroughly exhausted. She was in much worse wear. She could barely bring herself to move she was so spent, and although she’d rather loved the thrill of fucking her professor during detention, she rather missed being in bed after they’d come.

She eventually pushed herself upright, feeling horribly exposed, naked and fucked in the classroom, and began to pick her clothes up from the floor. As she dressed, Remus picked up the things he’d tossed to the floor with his wand, too lazy to do it manually.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘I suppose that’ll teach you not to be so reckless again, hmm?’ he said, still flushed and smirking.

‘It’s done the exact opposite, actually,’ Hermione breathed. ‘But I get your point.’

Remus chuckled. He was less guarded now. Not angry, and not trying to assert his status as he was before, though she supposed that had just been foreplay. No, he was looking like his old self, smiling at her warmly with affectionate eyes.

‘Good,’ he said finally, having studied her for a while. His voice was softer now, too. ‘I just… I don’t want this to end, Hermione. You understand that, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do,’ she said, scuffing the floors with her feet. ‘I just hate that I can’t be with you all the time.’

‘I know. I feel the same.’

She nodded. 

‘I graduate soon,’ she mused.

‘Six months, I suppose.’

She nodded.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask whether they had a future. She wondered whether he wanted the same or not. Perhaps he didn’t want to ask either, for fear of her response. But the both of them acknowledged the fact they were running out of time in silence, and a strange solemnity fell over the both of them. She’d never felt solemn after sex.

-

Where Remus had spanked her the day before she found it rather difficult to sit down. Hermione had tried not to show that it hurt when she used chairs or benches, but she worried her wincing and caution was obvious the more eagle-eyed of her companions.

‘You alright there, Hermione?’ Harry asked, watching her as she nestled onto the Gryffindor table for lunch with a clear hesitancy.

‘I’m okay,’ she shrugged. She was better than okay. She was excited for her detention tonight and was still in a good mood from the night before. 

‘What did Lupin make you do?’ Ron asked casually, tucking into a sandwich.

‘Just, uh… you know, general stuff. Nothing new.’ Well, not much was new. The spanking was new. And she’d enjoyed it very much.

‘Lucky you got him for detention, eh?’ Harry said, eyeing her up a little. She ordered her cheeks to remain unflushed.

‘Yeah. Well, you know. I suppose he was looking out for me.’

‘Nice of him.’

She furrowed her eyebrows. ‘I’m just thankful to the gods I’m not in detention with Snape again, frankly.’

‘What did you get it for, anyway?’

Hermione eyed him sternly. So far the group hadn’t dared ask. They’d probably figured it’d been serious, with her prefect status being removed and the way the professors had treated her in lessons since. They’d not been terrible to her, but treating her with apathy and firmness was quite a contrast to their usual buckets of praise and attention.

‘Skiving,’ she said finally. ‘I was taking things to make me ill so I didn’t have to go to lesson.’

‘Bullshit,’ Ron said, mouth half full. ‘You? Skiving? You fucking love school, Hermione.’

‘I’m just getting stressed out with the exams and graduation and…’ she shook her head. ‘I’m just scared about my future. What will happen to me once I leave. I don’t have a plan,’ she said sadly.

This was true. She didn’t have a plan for her career, or further education, or living arrangements, or relationships…

‘It’ll work out,’ Ron shrugged. ‘So what’s the real reason? What did you actually do?’

‘It’s true, Ron,’ she snapped. ‘I skived to get some time off to get away from everything for a while. To have a bit less pressure on me, to have fewer responsibilities. But my professors didn’t much understand and thought it wasn’t the correct behaviour for a prefect, so…’ she shrugged, and continued eating.

They didn’t interrogate her further. Except when she winced when she stood from her bench at the end of lunch and she angrily told them that she was on her period, which stopped their questions for good.

-

In Potions, Hermione spent the lesson with her head in the clouds of steam her cauldron of bubbly liquid was emitting. She stirred the solution with her mind elsewhere, and that elsewhere was with Remus.

‘Why have you got that stupid look on your face, Granger?’ 

She jumped, her heart knocking against her ribs, and looked behind her shoulder. Snape was looming over her like some kind of hawk, beak and all.

‘What look?’

‘That dreamy smile. Concentrate, for Merlin’s sake.’

She nodded, scowling at the man and turning her attention back to the cauldron. It was fine, anyway. This was easy compared to wolfsbane.

‘Well?’ he snapped.

‘What?’

‘What were you smiling at?’

‘I just love potions that much, Sir,’ she said, shrugging.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t get sarcastic with me, Granger, or I’ll ensure your detentions are extended to a month.’

Her heart skipped with joy in her chest. A month? A whole thirty days of thrilling sex with Remus every evening? It sounded like paradise.

But there was a glint in Snape’s eyes that made her heart stop mid-beat.

‘You don’t look too upset at the idea of that, Granger,’ he said, raising an eyebrow.

She didn’t know what to say.

‘Enjoying your detentions, are we?’

‘Well, no, not really.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I mean, it’s detention. I’m hardly going to enjoy it, am I?’ she lied.

‘Depends what you’re being made to do,’ Snape drawled. ‘For example, brewing potions wasn’t all that much of a chore for you, was it, Granger? But scrubbing cauldrons was fairly unpleasant work. It depends on the activity, after all. How exactly is Lupin punishing you?’

By throwing me over his desk and fucking me senseless, she thought.

‘Just tidying, mostly. Organising. Dusting.’

Snape looked at her with no discernible expression and she felt an uneasy sensation flood her. He knows something’s up. Remus even mentioned that Snape was giving him a hard time.

‘Very well. Watch that, Granger. It’s going to boil over if you’re not careful,’ he said shortly, pointing to the cauldron. She nodded, and watched him uneasily as he paced away to bully another student.

-

She was up against the wall, suspended in Remus’s embrace, wearing only her school tie loosely around her neck as Remus ground himself into her, his hands tight on the flesh of her hips. She was ever so close to coming when Remus stopped in an instant and began to make himself decent, buttoning his shirt back up where she’d ripped open the buttons and tugging his trousers over his still-hard dick. He tossed her clothes towards her in a heap and one sharp look told her to do the same.

‘What?’ she whispered, employing a few spells to hurry the process. She was fully dressed in a matter of moments, though decidedly dishevelled.

Remus didn’t answer and instead smoothed down his appearance before pointing his wand at the door and muttering a spell. She heard the door unlock with a click. A second later, the doorknob turned and the door opened.

‘Oh, Professor Snape,’ Remus said, a civil smile stretching across his face. He was stood in the centre of the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he headed towards the other man.

‘Professor,’ Snape drawled. 

‘Can I help?’

Snape studied him and then turned his gaze to Hermione. She felt uncomfortable. Despite being fully clothed she felt as though she might as well be naked and with Remus on top of her. She was probably still flushed and sweaty and messy, and she looked around the room helplessly for things to look busy with.

‘You seem a little out of breath, Lupin,’ Snape said.

Hermione felt sick. He knew, he knew, he knew…

‘Do I? Well, I’m not,’ Remus said. Hermione didn’t look at either of them but she was impressed with how convincing Remus sounded. She supposed Snape was playing his games, trying to rile Remus up. Maybe this was all their interactions consisted of. Remus probably knew how to play the game by now.

Snape hummed, a hint of scepticism in his disposition.

‘I assume you came for a reason?’ Remus asked sweetly.

‘A message,’ Snape said. He eyed Hermione suspiciously. ‘A word?’

Remus nodded and followed Snape out of the classroom. The door shut and Hermione sighed in relief, and began to get herself together. She ran to the nearest window and began to charm the dirt off the glass, and focused on looking bored and nonchalant instead of terrified and sexually frustrated.

A few minutes later she heard the murmur of male voices and the door open and close. She looked over and saw only Remus enter, looking serious.

‘Well that was fucking close,’ he said, running his hands through his hair.

‘I know,’ she breathed. ‘God, Remus, does he know?’

‘He has his suspicions. Nothing he can prove. He can’t even make accusations without fearing what it’ll do to his own reputation. Try not to worry. If you let him get to you, he might have something more substantial in his accusation… so, you know. Don’t let him get to you.’

She nodded, and shifted where she stood.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she said, biting her lip. It was still sensitive and moist where he’d been kissing and biting her just minutes before. 

‘Mm?’

‘I don’t want to get caught. But it’s kind of exciting. You know. The fact we almost got caught.’

He chuckled a deep, throaty laugh. 

‘Wouldn’t have pegged you for someone that gets turned on at that,’ he said, grinning.

She shrugged. ‘Don’t you?’

He pursed his lips, still smiling. ‘Oh yeah. It wasn’t until he entered that my hard-on went away.’

She giggled, flushing. But something was bothering her.

‘What was the message about?’ she asked.

He sighed. 

‘He and Dumbledore are going away tomorrow. They won’t be back ‘til Sunday. They’re investigating what looks like a breakout at Azkaban.’

‘A breakout?’ Hermione repeated, her voice shrill.

‘Ssh!’

‘Oh, there’re muffling charms, Remus,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell anyone. They’re keeping it quiet. No need to scare anyone, but… I don’t know. It’s not worth speculating.’

‘What?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Now, come on. I don’t believe you’ve quite finished your detention, yet,’ he said, a smirk playing on his lips. A thrill ran down her spine and she obeyed, and they picked up where they left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so so sorry for this taking almost a month. It's the holidays now so even though I have a ton of work to get through I'll try and get back into a rhythm of updating more regularly again. Thank you to all those who're still reading despite my terrible updating!


	34. Lupin Cottage

Hermione was really quite bitterly disappointed when her detentions came to an end. Sex with Remus was different; it had been thrilling and filthy, scandalous, rebellious, nothing like the romantic, if intense, encounters under the stars and the canopies of Remus’s bed. She finally understood the excitement accompanied by breaking the rules – and what rules she’d broken.

The final night had been Remus’s birthday, the 10th of March. Hermione had given him a new set of robes in a deep shade of red, amongst other things. He’d informed her the week running up to his birthday had been, in itself, a rather wonderful birthday gift. She’d sensed some embarrassment about growing a year older, a year closer to forty. She supposed her own youth was a constant reminder of his age, and their age difference.

On the final night, she and Remus had slumped on the floor, lazy, sweaty and half-naked, Hermione’s head buried in the crook of his neck, listening to the gentle beat of his pulse as his fingers traced her bare shoulders in delicate circles. They’d talked about how they wouldn’t have the opportunity they’d have again for a long time, and how that meant their interactions would be reduced right down to a minimum. He’d reminded her, in a strange moment of harsh severity, not to go walking about the castle without telling him first. She’d agreed in reluctant acceptance of the facts. She was under the gaze of McGonagall and Snape, and that meant Dumbledore – and that meant her relationship with Remus was being eyed by the all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful head of the castle.

Luckily, the Easter holidays were only around the corner. She’d only have to have to wait a week. 

She’d decided to definitely not go home for the fortnight. Her parents were busy travelling the world (though wrote to her often), so it wasn’t an option even if she wanted it to be. And she didn’t want it to be. Of course, she had the option to remain at the castle as she had done so over the Christmas period. She could also spend her time at Grimmauld or the Burrow, both houses offering an overwhelming welcome. 

As much as she didn’t like to admit it – she didn’t want too seem overly dependent on a man, of course – her decision was very much based on what Remus’s plans were. And he hadn’t told her what they were.

That in itself had bemused her. Every time she had tenderly, though overtly, raised the topic of the upcoming holidays, he’d found some way to distract her – often with his hands or tongue. 

So on the final night, in light of the fact it was a very real possibility she would not be alone with him until the holiday – at which point it may be too late – she shunned all shyness and asked him outright what his plans were.

She’d felt his chest rise and fall underneath her. 

‘I won’t be at the castle,’ he said.

She nodded, a hint of disappointment biting at her chest. The castle was usually empty, and it would have been so, so easy to spend all-day, every-day with him… morning walks in the springtime freshness, breakfast in bed, studying at his desk while he worked, the music and the fireplace and the long, long nights…

‘I won’t be at Grimmauld, either. Or the Weasleys’.’

‘So where will you be?’ she said, lifting her head from his shoulder to study him more clearly. He was frowning.

‘Travelling.’

‘What?’

He saw the panic wash over her face and he smiled weakly, shaking her head.

‘Not travelling Europe, don’t worry. No. Britain. England, specifically. Sirius and I will be continuing our work on the safe houses. It’s Order business.’

The safe houses. Every now and then she’d heard the safe houses mentioned by Remus or Sirius or one of the elder Weasleys, often in hushed tones.

‘What do you mean, work on them?’

He shrugged.

‘The safe houses are places people can go if things get very bad very quickly. They’re just a silly precaution. But we’ve got a good amount now. Grimmauld and The Burrow have been thoroughly secured, but they’re domestic places with heavy links to people the Death Eaters know very well about…’ he sighed. ‘So we’re building more. Less obvious places, this time. My own home in Yorkshire, to be exact.’

She looked at him. She felt him grow uncomfortable at the mention of his home.

‘Your home?’

He nodded.

‘You’ll be with Sirius?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. I’ll spend my days at my house, putting up all the spells, reinforcing all the current charms holding the place together…’ he sighed. ‘Boring work. He might pop by a couple of days but he’s working on a different place. It’s in England too, in a forest, old wizard community long abandoned, brilliant find…’

He was doing it again, going off-topic, trying to distract her.

‘Can I come?’ she asked gently.

He pursed his lips.

‘It’s Order business, Hermione. Dumbledore’s instructions. That’s why I’ve kept you out of it.’

‘But it’ll just be you there!’ she objected. ‘Nobody will know!’

‘Sirius will wonder what the bloody hell we’re doing if he catches you at my house, having spent the night for over two weeks,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll go out those days, then,’ she shrugged. ‘You’ll know when he’s coming, won’t you?’

He shrugged, though she knew that was a yes.

‘It’ll be very boring, Hermione. You won’t see anyone. I’ll just be doing spells all day.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Do you really think I’d find spending time with you boring, of all things?’ she said, nudging his shoulder gently. 

It was at that moment she realised that his reluctance to admit anything about his plans before was not simply because it was ‘Order business’, but some deep-seated insecurity. She wasn’t totally sure, but she sensed a kind of discomfort with himself. Did he fear she found him boring? Did he fear she would grow out of him?

There still seemed to be something bothering him when he agreed to let her come with him to Yorkshire, but she ignored it. She kissed him good night, and happy birthday, and went back to her dorm pretending the strange niggling wasn’t playing at the back of her mind.

-

‘You’re ditching me?’

Draco groaned, his head falling into his hands.

It was the Friday the 18th, the day before Hermione and Remus were apparating to Yorkshire for the next two weeks. She’d already told her Gryffindor friends she was going home to her parents (unbeknownst to them, her mother and father were currently trotting about Greece). Sirius had written her an angry letter about the dangers of going home, a place that hadn’t been fully secured, putting her defenceless Muggle parents in the face of danger… but she’d assured him she would be fine. And she was going to be fine. She was going to Yorkshire with her… boyfriend? Partner? Lover? She didn’t know what Remus was.

She’d left it ‘til late to tell Draco. Partly so he couldn’t change anything, and partly because she’d dreaded seeing his face when she dropped the news. She’d taken him to sit by the edge of the lake, the same place they’d sat as they slowly became friends. 

‘You know I’m stuck here, Granger!’ he growled. ‘Over two weeks, stuck at this place, by myself. No home to go to. No dreamy cottage to go fuck my wolf boyfriend in, either, believe it or not.’

‘I know, I know…’

‘Nobody here. You’re the only one I have, Granger. You owe me, too, I’ve really saved your neck few times, I’ve had your back.’

‘Yes, yes, I know…’

‘I’ve got you out of all kinds of trouble, facilitated your sex nights with Lupin, dealt with all kinds of shit ever since you used meeting me for night-time library fun as an excuse for your walking about at night.’

‘I know, Draco.’

‘And now you’re fucking off for the holiday. Yeah, I get it, friends are second-best when you have someone nailing you, eh?’

‘Draco.’

‘Even Snape won’t be here over the holidays. I asked him. He looked at me like I was dirt, and then told me he’s got some ‘important business to attend to’. Even Snape has plans. How do you think that makes me feel, Granger? I have no parents, no family, no relationship, no friends…’

He was pink in the face.

‘I’ve just realised I literally have no life outside of you,’ he whimpered.

Hermione felt a pang of guilt strike her like a ceremonial drum, rattling through her body in loud, thudding waves. 

‘Look, I’m sorry Draco. But it’s two weeks, okay? Just two weeks. Why don’t you spend it studying? You’ve almost caught up, haven’t you? Did you read those books Remus lent you?’

He shot her a filthy look.

‘I’m not sitting here with a book in my face in solitude for two weeks, Granger.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about that,’ she shrugged.

Draco raised his eyebrows.

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘Well, you can.’

‘What?’

‘Well, you can do something about it.’

‘I’m not staying, Draco,’ she sighed. ‘Look, it’s the full moon over Easter, so I want to be with Remus then anyway.’

‘Excuses, excuses. I bet you’ve already planned out every day, haven’t you? Romantic walks across rolling hills, picnics…’ he snarled.

Hermione wasn’t about to admit she had indeed planned out every day in one of her diaries.

‘I’m certainly not bringing you, either,’ she said.

‘Spoil the mood?’

‘Well, yes, you would. Also, you’re not allowed. I’m not even allowed. If I’m caught it’s one thing, but if you got caught… you haven’t done anything, but you’d get wrapped up in all this mess.’

‘Don’t pretend you care about me,’ Draco muttered, sulking and pouting, staring out at the lake.

Hermione sighed and tossed a stone out onto the lake, watching the ripples.

‘Look, I’ll… I’ll sort something out,’ she sighed.

-

‘No way. No way. Absolutely no way.’

The Gryffindor common room was relatively quiet. Almost everybody was going to be up early to catch the early train home the next morning, and had retired before midnight. Hermione and Harry had remained in their squashy red chairs watching the last of the logs in the fireplace be consumed by the flames.

‘Oh, come on. You have a massive house, so many spare rooms, and I know Sirius won’t even be there…’

Hermione knew this was desperate. Harry, out of his love for Hermione but nothing else, had resigned to treating Draco with cold civility. This had been hard enough to achieve. But asking if Draco could live at Grimmauld for two weeks? This really was low. 

She’d initiated the conversation by asking for his plans over Easter. Of course he’d be at home, Grimmauld Place, and for the first time in a long time he’d have the house to himself – Sirius was off on business, as Hermione already knew very well. He was planning to get Ginny around as much as possible, if her parents would permit it. When she asked if he had a room spare for the Slytherin, Harry had at first thought she was joking.

‘Hermione, why doesn’t he just go round your house with your parents with you?’ he snapped.

‘My parents would never allow it. They’re incredibly strict. And we don’t have the room. And Draco is a target, just like you, just like me. It would endanger me and my parents even more if he was there. Grimmauld is completely safe.’

‘You must be having a laugh,’ Harry said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe you actually think…’

‘Oh come on, it’s not like he’ll get in your way!’ she protested. ‘Sirius isn’t there, and if Ginny’s round he can be in a completely different part of the house! It’s not like there isn’t enough room, is there?’ You could give him his own floor if you wanted to!’

‘That’s the thing, Hermione,’ Harry said, scowling. ‘I don’t want to.’

Hermione sighed and slumped back in her chair in defeat.

‘I’ll really owe you one. If you do this for me. He’s going to be here, alone, for two weeks. Harry, come on…’

Harry pondered this.

‘You’ll owe me one?’ he said tentatively.

She nodded.

He pursed his lips in contemplation.

‘All my homework?’

‘For how long?’

‘Exams.’

‘You must be joking!’ she snapped.

‘Fine then,’ he shrugged.

She scowled. Draco really better appreciate this, she thought miserably.

‘Fine. Okay.’

‘Okay. He can stay. But he’s not allowed to talk to me. Or make a mess. He just has to leave me alone. And Hermione, if he does something…’

She interjected at that point, on the verge of shouting, until she realised it was rather quiet and late at night and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea waking up the entire Gryffindor castle while they were trying to sleep.

-

Hermione claimed to be catching a later train when she waved off all her friends from the castle gates. Harry looked severe. Ron looked amused and bemused, and had switched from mocking Harry’s misfortune to shooting Draco suspicious, threatening looks. Draco had reacted inscrutably to his offer to stay with Harry at Grimmauld Place. Hermione often prided herself on reading people with accuracy, but she really did have no idea about how he felt. She supposed it can’t have been too bad – he’d stopped berating her for abandoning him, and had accepted his invitation. Supposing this, she tried to put Draco out of her mind for now.

Once the carriages had whisked away the remains of the students from the castle, she strolled back inside and headed up to Remus’s rooms.

After letting herself in, she glanced around the room and towards the fire place, which was roaring with huge flames. They were using the Floo Network to travel to Remus’s cottage. She had taken the liberty of leaving her suitcases with Remus already, and since they had all disappeared, she guessed he had already taken them to the cottage.

She made herself a cup of tea while she waited for Remus. He appeared in a fury of green flames and stepped out, looking a little flustered.

‘That’s the last of them, then,’ he said, brushing himself off. He smiled at her weakly. ‘Ready when you are, dear. I have to shut off the link when we get there, so make sure you have everything.’

She nodded, tossed her cup into the sink and approached the fireplace. She went first, and Remus followed. After the nauseating whirlwind of tunnels and smoke and flames she landed in somewhat of a stumble onto unfamiliar ground, the room spinning around her head.

She took a few shaky steps forward and heard the flames roar behind her, and felt Remus’s presence. She shut her eyes, grasping her head and rubbing her temples, and eventually the dizziness stopped. 

‘Welcome to Lupin Cottage,’ Remus said awkwardly, anxiousness audible in his voice.

She’d landed in the kitchen. The floor was wooden and quite old, scratched and dusty, and the walls were bare brick. It was a moderately sized room, with a stove, several large wooden cupboards and surfaces, with a square wooden table seating four people in the middle of the room. It smelled dusty, and it was almost eerily quiet save for the soft sound of birdsong from outside.

Remus mumbled continuous apologies for the mess of the place as Hermione explored the house with a pleasant excitement. The living room was small and quaint, with tired-looking blue sofas and armchairs and a wobbly wooden coffee table. The two bedrooms were on the ground floor. One was large enough for a double bed, but it was empty. The other was rather little, with a single unmade bed. There was a small hallway that connected all the rooms, which was a little cramped and tiny. The whole place had a low ceiling and was noticeably bare and unkempt. 

Hermione wasn’t totally sure how she felt about it. Remus looked plain embarrassed.

‘The grounds are much nicer to look at,’ he said to his feet, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. He was wearing his muggle clothes – blue trousers, dark brown walking boots and a beige, crinkled old shirt. She watched him tug on his brown duffle coat and stuff his wallet and wand into the pockets.

‘I’m going to the local village to do some shopping for the next fortnight,’ he announced. ‘You, um, make yourself comfortable.’

She nodded, smiling, but felt rather embarrassed for him. He needn’t have felt embarrassed at all, but she knew he felt deeply uncomfortable about her being here.

Hermione followed him out into the hallway and watched him disappear through the front door. He had struggled with a navy blue umbrella, since it was tipping down outside – unfortunately postponing her exploration of the gardens. Once he left, she let out a sigh, trying to relieve the weight that had settled on her chest.

She explored the house again twice over. His bookcase had been stripped bare, and she supposed most of his belongings were now in his rooms at Hogwarts. She filled the kettle with water from the tap, which only let out a gentle trickle, and put it over the stove, lighting the gas with her wand. While she waited for it to boil she reflected on the house. It was quaint, but looked quite sad. No photographs or paintings or decorations were to be seen. It seemed as though Remus had only bare necessities, and not much else.

She noticed the unmistakeable door in the ceiling, and cast a spell to get it open and unfold its creaky ladder. She stepped up warily and found herself in a tiny little loft, decorated with ancient spider webs now abandoned and a few old cardboard boxes. She rummaged through them and found nothing of interest – just old, useless items like damaged saucepans and hole-ridden umbrellas that Remus hadn’t got round to fixing or throwing out yet.

She sighed. He must have lived in this place for years – so where was the evidence, spare for the obvious age of the place?

She left the loft in disappointment and closed it back up. Then the kettle started boiling, so she went to turn the gas off. But as she did so, she tripped over her own feet, staggering forwards but managing to remain mostly upright.

She turned the gas off and turned back to look at where she’d tripped. She’d kicked up an old, red-brown rug that sat curiously in one place in the kitchen, for seemingly no reason. She was about to place it back neatly as it had been, but a thought struck her before she could do so.

Instead, she pulled the rug away to the other side of the room and found an interruption in the floorboards; there, was a square door, raised slightly higher than the rest of the floor as it was clearly as old as the house and in dire need of fixing.

A trap door. Hermione’s heart quickened with excitement and curiosity.

It was probably nothing, she told herself, as she fiddled with the lock and muttered an easy ‘alohomora’. But at the same time, it could be something.

She squeezed through the door and made her way down some more wobbly wooden steps. It was dark, and cold, as one would expect a cellar to be. 

She reached the bottom and felt a slight damp in the air. The place was made of stone and looked as ancient as the dungeons at Hogwarts, but can’t have been. 

Shivering slightly, she lit the top of her wand alight and used her wandlight to illuminate her surroundings. She realised a few old torches lined the walls, so she lit them and put out her wand.

She stared at what was revealed in the light.

She wasn’t scared at first – simply bemused. It was like a jail cell. Two walls of metal bars formed a small cell in the corner of the room. On the floor was a pile of rags. The cell door was heavily equipped with thick lengths of metal chain and large locks that even Hermione would struggle to open. A shiver ran up her spine.

It didn’t just look like a jail cell – it was one. Why on earth did Remus own a jail cell? And keep it a secret? 

Then something glistening caught her eye. Things were hanging on the wall outside of the cell.

They looked ancient and untouched for years, but she was horrified at what she found. One was a long, metal stick, like a fire poker. There was also a large metal hammer. 

Her heart began to race. What the fuck? This place looked like some kind of torture chamber-prison. Why on earth did this exist underneath Remus’s pretty, if old and tired, little cottage?

God. What if it was a torture chamber? What if this was the dark side of the Order of the Phoenix? What if Remus or Sirius or somebody else had taken people here… prisoners… and done… something… for information?

She felt sick, and grasped her body tightly.

‘You found it, then.’

She jumped, and whipped round to see Remus stood next to the wooden steps, his arms crossed. He looked very stern.

Hermione couldn’t manage to answer.

Remus pursed his lips. 

‘Upstairs. Now.’

She nodded, and obeyed. She went first, Remus second. He shut the door beside her.

-

Remus had told her to wait in the living room. She sat on the armchair opposite the sofa, still hugging herself. Remus entered shortly with two cups of tea, and placed them on the coffee table between the two of them.

‘Right,’ he sighed. ‘I suppose I should explain what you found.’

She just watched the steam rise in silence.

‘This isn’t just my cottage,’ he began. ‘It was my parents’. I grew up here. That big bedroom was theirs, and the little one is mine. I didn’t have any other siblings. It was just me, mum and dad.

‘Mum was a muggle. Dad was a wizard. They’re both gone now. They have been for a while,’ he said, pausing for a moment. ‘This place used to be a lot nicer. I remember it, sort of. It was a lot more welcoming, a lot prettier, much more of a fairy-tale cottage than it is now,’ he laughed. ‘But, as a child, I got bitten, as you know. I don’t remember it, and I don’t remember much before that.

‘That room you found used to be a wine cellar,’ he chuckled. ‘I suppose it still could be. But after my parents took me to all the healers they could afford, with no luck, they realised I was going to have this affliction forever. There was no wolfsbane back then. At first, when I was small, they tried to keep me in the house when I had transformed. But even as an infant I was still far too big for them to control as a wolf, and I almost bit my mother. She couldn’t have transformed into a werewolf because she was a muggle, so it would’ve killed her.

‘After that, they locked me in my room. But I broke down the door and my father had to stun me. After that, they decided to let me run around the grounds at night, because they thought it would be the healthiest, most natural place for a werewolf to be. But it was too dangerous. The grounds are too open and they realised anyone could stumble into my path if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

‘So they remodelled the cellar, and that’s where I went. On the night of the full moon I’d go down to the cellar and be locked in to transform. I’d howl and scratch myself all night. At first my mum and dad stayed down with me but they couldn’t bear to watch, so my dad put a muffling charm on the place and they went to bed, and came to get me at dawn.’

‘That’s horrible,’ Hermione whispered.

Remus shook his head. ‘I don’t blame them. They did everything they could.’

Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

‘The fire poker was just to prod me from behind the bars, if I’d fallen asleep as a wolf but they were unsure if I was alive or not. It was never to hurt me. The hammer was just for the rusty old locks. They could be a bit stubborn sometimes,’ he chuckled.

She nodded.

‘So. Now you know.’

‘I’m sorry I went down without asking,’ she whispered. 

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in the first place, Hermione. I should have. It’s just… difficult to bring up in conversation. I guess I hoped you wouldn’t find it at all so I wouldn’t have to talk about it.’

She sighed.

‘I didn’t realise this was your family home,’ she said.

He nodded.

‘Where are all the family photos?’ she said, looking around as though they were hiding. ‘The mementos?’

‘They’re all at Hogwarts.’

‘Why don’t you keep some here? This place could be so lovely…’

He shrugged. ‘This place holds a lot of bad memories.’

She sighed.

‘Anyway. I moved your stuff into my bedroom.’

‘Where are you going to sleep?’

He patted the sofa underneath him.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said. ‘You can sleep with me.’

‘It’ll be a bit cramped,’ he laughed.

‘I don’t care. I want to sleep with you.’

He nodded, gazing into his tea with a tired smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. I'm so so so sorry this took so long! I guess my excuse is that I've been super busy but also because I really couldn't motivate myself to write anything at all. So I guess I had writer's block. But I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and hopefully I'll get the next one done very soon to make up for the time it took to get this done. Thank you for all your support while this wasn't being updated, I appreciated all the comments and all the kudos so much xxx


	35. Easter

The days that followed were strange.

Not a bad strange. Just an unfamiliar, new strange. Hermione was comfortable with Remus at his cottage, and she enjoyed every second of it; but it was strange.

They spent the following two nights cramped in Remus’s tiny single bed, Remus cuddling Hermione from behind her, her body squeezed right against his. They made the most of their newfound freedom and privacy, and when Remus finally overcame his initial embarrassment, would often initiate sex when Hermione least expected it; in the morning, in the bath, in the kitchen – even outside in the gardens. And Hermione didn’t complain one bit. It was the week leading up to the full moon anyhow, which explained Remus’s sudden rise of interest and energy.

What was strange was how… domestic the situation was. They would wake up, a little achy from their exercise and the cramped bed, and would bathe together, cook breakfast together, and talk warmly over the wobbly wooden table. Remus, who, sadly, had things to do, would leave the house to work on the complex, tedious charms to protect the area that sometimes took hours to complete. If the weather was pleasant, Hermione would join him, doing what she could to help or simply perch on the grass with a book, regularly looking up to glance at him. Once or twice she made the both of them a picnic and they would sit in the sunshine during Remus’s break, which inevitably led to the both of them rolling around in the grass.

If the rain poured, Hermione remained indoors. She read, she studied. She dragged the single bed out of the small room and transfigured it into a large double, and magically altered much of the furniture of the house; she fixed wobbly legs of chairs and tables, mended cracks and splits in the wood, revitalised the tired upholstery of the settee and managed to mend most of the damaged utensils in the loft. When Remus was too busy to be disturbed, she went to the local village and shopped for all kinds of things that took her fancy – second-hand paintings, photo frames, vases, pretty little pots and all kinds of interesting little trinkets. Slowly, she dusted away the cobwebs, restored the place from its semi-derelict place and transformed the interior into a charming, quaint little place.

They ate home cooked meals together at lunchtime and evening and took many walks around the grounds. Remus would often be reminded of some event from his childhood that he recalled to her, and she regularly enquired about his muggle mother and father. He had never talked of his family before then.

On Thursday evening, the two were eating their evening meal when Remus interrupted the conversation.

‘Sirius is visiting tomorrow,’ he said suddenly.

Hermione sighed. 

‘What am I going to do?’ she said, slumping onto the table.

‘He’s just visiting to wish me luck for the full moon,’ he shrugged.

‘You don’t need it.’

‘I know. But he doesn’t know that,’ he said, pointing his fork at Hermione.

Hermione groaned.

‘So we’ll have to hide you, I’m afraid. He’ll probably just stay in the house, so you can stay in the village, if you like. Or I can lock you in the cellar. That’s probably where I’ll be hiding your things.’

‘No thanks,’ she muttered. She stabbed at her food pointlessly until a thought struck her and she looked up.

‘Can I go to Grimmauld?’

‘Why?’

‘To see Draco. And Harry. And Ginny. See how they’re getting on.’

Remus clicked his tongue his teeth, pondering this request.

‘Alright. I can set up the Floo Network to get you there, I suppose.’

She nodded enthusiastically.

Remus raised an eyebrow. ‘Very well. The things I do for you, eh?’

‘You love it,’ she enthused.

Remus hummed sceptically, smirking. 

-

Hermione wrote a message to Draco as soon as possible, and hoped the owl would reach him before she arrived – she needed him to enable the Floo Network to allow her entry. Early the following morning – before Sirius arrived – Hermione took the chimney to Grimmauld Place. 

After a tumble out of the ashes and the dust she staggered into the large, expansive kitchen, and found Draco perched on the table.

‘Hiya,’ he drawled. ‘How’s your love nest?’

‘Fine,’ she said, dusting herself off and gazing at him amusedly. ‘How’s yours?’

‘Very funny. Though fairly accurate. Potter and Weasley can’t keep their hands off each other,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’ve put muffling charms on my room so I don’t have to bloody listen to it.’

She chuckled. ‘Where are they?’

‘Out.’

‘Out?’ she repeated, suddenly worried. ‘They’re not supposed to be out. It’s not safe!’

‘Relax, Granger. They’re only sightseeing around London. Oh, Granger, you should’ve seen him. All decked out in his muggle clothes, girlfriend in his arm. ‘Make yourself useful, Malfoy, and look after the house while we’re gone!’ Prick.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘He’s not a prick. He was very kind to let you stay, you know,’ she beckoned him off the table and they went out into the stairwell, where they made their way up to the third floor. ‘They ought to be careful, though. They really shouldn’t be walking around London.’

‘Bit rich, coming from you. You shouldn’t be fucking your professor, but here we are.’

‘Fair point.’

The third floor was Draco’s floor, and he was sleeping in Sirius’s brother’s old room. Draco appeared to enjoy the incredibly luxury and ancestry of the place, and particularly the Slytherin embellishments. It must have reminded him of home. Hermione sat on the end of his bed.

‘So. Why you here? Your letter was very mysterious,’ Draco said, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

‘Sirius is visiting Remus, so he can’t know I was there. Remus has hidden all my things. I’ll go back in the evening, to be there when he transforms.’

Draco nodded. 

‘How has your week been?’

He shrugged.

‘Lonesome.’

Hermione sighed, feeling rather guilty. Maybe she had been wrong to put her own selfish desires before Draco’s. Would it have been so bad to let Draco sleep in the cottage, too? There was room for one more person, and since Hermione was sometimes alone during the day, it wouldn’t have been so bad to have him around…

‘I mean, Ginny makes an effort, sort of. If I bump into her in the kitchen or in the living room or whatever she’ll try and have a conversation with me, but I don’t think she knows what to say. She just sort of asks about how school is going and my plans for after graduation.’

‘That’s nice of her,’ Hermione insisted.

‘Hmm. Potter’s a dick, though.’

‘He isn’t.’

‘Well, he might not be to you,’ Draco sneered. ‘If I ever bump into him, he’ll either ignore me or boss me around like a fucking house elf. ‘Ooh, make sure you clean up after yourself, Malfoy. Ooh, could you go to a different room? Ginny and I want to be in here.’ He’s driving me mad.’

Hermione shrugged. 

‘He’s an arse,’ Draco mumbled.

‘What do you want from him, though?’ Hermione said, crossing her arms. ‘Do you want him to ignore you altogether? Or do you want him to be friendly? Do you want to be best friends?’

Draco scoffed.

‘What’s your point?’

‘Well, I bet if he was nice to you, you’d just be nasty right back. So how can he win?’

Draco rolled his eyes and shrugged.

‘Whatever.’

‘You could try being nice to him, you know. He’s been very kind.’

‘Fine. I’ll play nice.’

‘Who knows. Maybe he’ll enjoy your company,’ she said, grinning.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, but she couldn’t help but notice his cheeks growing a little pink.

They spent the day chatting, eating, gossiping. Hermione mostly talked about her time with Remus, and Draco mostly moaned about his time with Harry. It seemed that Draco spent half the day sleeping, and would get up about noon in his pyjamas to raid the cupboards for junk food. Other than that, he’d laze around doing nothing. Apparently Harry took issue with his laziness in particular, and they’d had more than one argument already.

‘I got my own back, though,’ Draco smirked.

Hermione felt a mild sense of dread overcome her.

‘Oh, God. What did you do?’

‘Well, Potter is ridiculously insecure. His masculinity and sexuality is incredibly fragile, Granger,’ he begun.

‘Oh, God…’

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. After a particularly heated argument, Potter decided to take a bath to cool down.’

‘Oh, no…’

‘Well, Ginny was in the other bathroom, doing her makeup or hair or whatever girls do. And I’m far too polite to interrupt a lady while she’s busy.’

‘Do me a favour. I’ve met acromantulas more polite than you.’

He ignored her. ‘So, needing to… relieve myself, I went into Potter’s bathroom.’

‘Draco! There are about four bloody bathrooms here!’

He ignored her. ‘And oh dear, he reacted very badly. Splashing about and covering himself. Did you know Potter likes bubble baths?’

‘Did he lock the door?’

Draco shrugged.

‘He did, didn’t he?’

‘Well. Not well enough, apparently.’

She groaned. ‘You mean, you went to the effort of magically unlocking the door just to humiliate him?’

‘I needed a piss, Granger. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’

‘I suppose he’s just lucky you didn’t piss in his bath. I wouldn’t put it past you.’

‘The thought did come to mind,’ he grinned mischievously. ‘But first and foremost, I am a gentleman. Which is exactly why I offered to scrub the parts of Potter’s back that he can’t reach himself.’

‘Oh, Draco,’ she sighed, shaking his head.

‘Can you believe a man can be so insecure in his own sexuality, that he reacts so dramatically and aggressively to another man trying to rub soap on his shoulders?’

‘You’re insane.’

Draco cackled maniacally.

‘Would you be interested in knowing Potter’s dick size? I know it.’

‘No, I would certainly not be interested, thank you very much!’ she scowled, slapping his arm scathingly. 

‘What’s Lupin’s, out of interest?’

‘Why on earth would I tell you that?’

‘Because we’re BFFs, girlfriend.’

‘Sometimes I wonder why we’re even friends in the first place,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Come on. Is he big? Small? Thin and long? Short and stubby?’

‘You’re filthy.’

‘Bet he’s small. He’s so skinny and he’s not all that tall, either. I expect him to be in proportion.’

‘He’s perfectly endowed. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘Ahh. Well, you are one satisfied customer, eh Granger? Though, since he’s about fifty…’

‘Late thirties,’ she corrected.

‘He’s probably learnt a thing or two in his many years of experience,’ he said, nudging her side.

‘Oh, shut up.’

Draco paused. ‘I doubt Ginny is, considering what she’s got to contend with...’

‘Stop it!’

-

Hermione was anxious to leave Grimmauld Place before Harry and Ginny returned. She’d hoped to stay until they’d arrived home safely, but they were out until the evening. Remus had contacted her by fireplace and informed her Sirius had left, and she needed to come home soon so he could turn off the Floo Network as soon as possible.

‘Just go, Granger. They’ll be fine.’

Hermione shifted from foot to foot nervously. 

‘Write me an owl when they get home, letting me know they got home safely.’

‘Or if they don’t,’ Draco whispered dramatically.

She scowled at him. 

‘Alright, alright. Go on. The hubby is waiting.’

‘Fine. I’m going.’

With a final smile at her friend, she was whisked away into the flames and tumbled back into the cottage. 

-

The transformation went as smoothly as it had done ever since Hermione had started sleeping with him. She was grateful that the bed was now so much larger to accommodate the large wolf that appeared at moonrise, though she slept through it as easily as Remus. She woke later than him, and found a cup of tea on her bedside and heard the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen.

She smiled and stretched, taking long gulps from her tea and sighing. The birds were singing, her… other half? Companion? Whatever Remus was… was making breakfast. The sun was shining. Her life was so bizarrely idyllic.

It is so typical that everything should come crashing down when it all seems so perfect.

Hermione almost spat out her tea when she heard a knock at the door. She stayed in bed, frozen. Suddenly, she felt exposed, wearing nothing under the blankets. She leant over Remus’s side and grabbed his discarded t-shirt and boxers and pulled them over herself, and then stayed utterly still, trying to discern what was happening in the hallway.

Sirius.

He’d dropped by unexpectedly.

What could she do? She realised Remus had let him in – he must have been unable to shoo him away. Hide under the covers? If he found her, that would be incredibly criminalising. Hiding in a wardrobe would look just as suspicious. The cellar was out of the question. The loft? Too risky. She contemplated climbing out of the window and hiding in the woods until Sirius left.

But… all her things. She’d left her books, her jacket, her shoes, all in the kitchen. If Sirius was in there now, he’d see them before Remus had a chance to hide everything.

Footsteps. Raised voices. Remus’s was particularly audible. She had to make a decision.

She looked to the window. Escape?

Footsteps. Voices. Louder and louder. Closer and closer.

She didn’t have time. She leapt out of bed and under it, clasping her hands over her mouth and shutting her eyes as though she could wish everything away. Oh, if only she could apparate. She was learning, but there was a solid chance she’d leave behind at least one limb. Would it be worth it?

The bedroom door opened and her heart stopped.

‘See? Empty. You’re crazy, Sirius.’

She heard Remus’s voice in the doorway, and opened her eyes carefully. She saw two pairs of feet – Remus’s bare toes and Sirius’s black boots.

‘What’s all this then, hmm?’ 

Hermione supposed Sirius was motioning to all her clothes and possessions.

‘That’s mine.’

‘Really? Fucking drop it, mate. You don’t own a fucking bra.’

‘It’s just left over from an, uh, old girlfriend that spent some time here. Years ago.’

‘What girlfriend? You haven’t had girlfriends. Since when have you had girlfriends? Until now, apparently. Come on. Where is she?’

Remus stayed silent.

‘Come on out, love,’ Sirius called.

This was it. She couldn’t stay under the bed all day. Sooner or later Sirius would know to look and she’d be given away anyway.

She held her breath and crawled out from the bed, her face flushed red in humiliation. She wasn’t alone – Remus looked positively scandalised, holding his face in his hands.

Sirius gaped at her. 

‘Right. Okay. Sirius, before you jump to any conclusions…’

‘What. The. Fuck.’

‘Sirius, come with me. Sit down. I’ll explain everything.’

‘Hermione? Jesus Christ, Remus, I had my fucking suspicions, I thought you might have had a weird crush or something but Merlin, you’re having a fucking affair?’

‘Sirius, there’s a good explanation for all of this,’ Hermione pleaded.

‘Love, are you alright?’ Sirius said, his voice suddenly softer.

‘Of course she is!’ Remus snapped, angry now. ‘You think I’d hurt her? I would never-’

‘Well, I don’t know, Remus. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be fucking your student but I suppose I was wrong about that.’

Remus stared at him furiously. There was a long, horrible silence.

Eventually, Remus turned to Hermione.

‘Get dressed, dear. We’ll leave you alone while we have a little chat. You can join us when you’re decent.’

Hermione nodded. She didn’t like when Remus acted so parental – it made her feel horribly young – but she supposed he couldn’t act normally in front of Sirius. That wouldn’t make anything better.

-

She got dressed, properly, and quite modestly. She took her time, but realised she simply had to leave her bedroom and some point. 

She left the room to hear voices. She dawdled in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil and listening to fragments of sentences. She heard their words with clarity when one of them shouted – Sirius, mostly – but when one of them would whisper – Remus, mostly – she had to strain, and then the whistling of the kettle would rudely interrupt.

She switched off the heat and busied herself with pouring out cups of tea. Yes, this would make everything better. Maybe if she put some kind of potion in Sirius’s cup… oh, she spent too much time with Draco.

She carried the three cups awkwardly into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. She didn’t know where to sit. Remus had chosen the couch and Sirius an armchair, and there was space for her next to the former. But she felt strange seating herself near him and instead pulled up an uncomfortable wooden chair from the kitchen and placed it with some distance from them, cupping her mug of tea with both hands.

From what she could infer, Remus had chosen to explain everything in order. From their meeting, to the full moon on the attack on the Burrow, to their weekend in Silverlake, everything. Hermione couldn’t even enjoy the sweet nostalgia that usually accompanied those memories, because Sirius’s demeanour soured them on contact.

They must have talked there for an hour, the three of them. Hermione didn’t talk all that much. She gingerly sipped her tea. Sirius didn’t talk much either. Remus dominated and talked until his voice was hoarse and he was pink with humiliation and shame and whatever else a man in his position would be feeling. Sirius examined his friend with an inscrutable frown.

Eventually, Remus caught up with himself and fell silent, after a ‘well, there you have it’.

All three of them sat and listened to the clock tick.

‘Alright, Remus. Hermione.’

Remus’s lips thinned, and Hermione bit hers. Neither spoke.

Sirius raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. 

‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not happy. I’m not about to celebrate this – whatever it is. If I could stop it, I would.’

Hermione eyed Remus intensely but Remus was too busy watching his knee jig up and down.

‘Because, frankly, mate, it’s fucking wrong. You know that. I know that. You know that,’ he said, gazing at Hermione with a deliberate poignancy before turning back to the other man.

‘But I see I can’t stop it. There’s no point telling the school. You’d get fired, Hermione would be – I don’t know – kicked out? Nothing good, anyway.’

Hermione nodded.

‘But I know you two would just fucking make it work anyway and find each other. There’s no point in me taking away your lives if it’s not going to do anything to stop this.’

Remus swallowed.

‘So. Fine. Keep me out of it. Keep Harry out of it. In fact, keep everyone out of it. Don’t wrap up anyone else in this mess. I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist so I can sleep a little better at night. I guess that also means, lucky for you, your secret is safe. Just don’t… rub it in my fucking face.’

They both nodded.

‘Right. I’m off.’

And with that, Sirius tore his coat from the back of the chair and stood in one graceful swoop, wrapped himself about in the long black fabric and stalked from the room wordlessly. Instead of a goodbye, Remus and Hermione listened to the door slam.

Hermione leapt up from her chair and peered out the window, watching Sirius’s cloak billow behind him as he stormed down the path and shortly disappeared into thin air.

‘He’s gone,’ she said quietly, turning to Remus. He was rubbing his temples, his eyes closed. He looked quite old.

‘Remus,’ she breathed. ‘Listen. It’s alright. He’ll meditate on everything and I’m sure he’ll apologise and everything will be alright again…’

‘Don’t, Hermione. Don’t try and be upbeat about this.’

‘But-’

‘But nothing.’

He was using his strictest teacher-voice, and she felt an uncomfortable sickliness in her chest.

‘Look, Remus. Let’s get some air. An early night. You can get back to work tomorrow. You can’t just sit here and dwell on this. It’ll make you feel worse.’

He didn’t reply.

‘It’ll make me feel worse,’ she said.

Remus sighed, and got up from the sofa as though it were a great struggle, and made his way out of the room towards the front door.

They walked the grounds together for a while, in silence. Their silences were always perfectly comfortable, but today it felt like suffocation. The grounds, so green and beautiful and dewy in the burst of springtime, had somehow lost their colour. It was just bland and muddy.

‘Remus,’ Hermione said finally, stopping. He walked on a few paces before stopping himself.

‘Remus, we have another whole week together,’ she pleaded. 

‘And I have half a mind to send you back to the castle. This was a mistake.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Hermione spat, suddenly furious. Her temper had risen almost instantly, though it had probably been bubbling for a while now.

‘Remus, just stop it. Clear your head. Take a walk to town if you need to. I’m going back to the house. I’ll be waiting for you and I expect you to be a lot fucking nicer to me then than you are being now.’

He stared at the ground, kicking the moist earth underneath his shoes.

‘This might be the last time we have any time with each other for months.’

He didn’t respond. She sighed.

‘See you later. I’ll be waiting.’

And with that, she walked off towards the house, fighting back tears. But when she got back to the house and closed the door behind her, she sank to her knees and lost the battle with her sobs and howled into her hands.


	36. A Solemn Return

Hermione felt drained when she went to bed. She’d spent an hour crying, until her eyes were sore, her lips were cracked and her face red and damp with tears. She sat around the house aimlessly, drinking sips of cold water to relieve the tightness in her chest and the dryness in her throat. She ate some bland pasta in the early afternoon and some toast before bed, and, when it turned six and Remus still hadn’t returned, she took a bath.

She pulled the plug and watched the water spiral down the drain, feeling strangely empty. She climbed out of the tub and towelled herself dry, and changed into her pyjamas and spell-dried her hair before tucking herself up into bed. 

Remus didn’t return until the evening. She hadn’t been able to sleep. She listened, motionless and silent with her eyes closed, as Remus entered the front door and moved around the house. He went to the kitchen and stayed there for a while – presumably eating something – and then took a brief shower. Light slowly filled the room as he cracked the bedroom door open, and shut it again.

He climbed into bed beside her, and she felt her body stiffen.

He lay there for a while, and she only heard his gentle breathing. Then he laid his fingers on her shoulder, and traced them down her arm.

‘You awake?’ he whispered.

Hermione let out a soft sigh.

He moved himself closer, wrapping his arm around her and holding his body against hers. He laid his head right behind hers, and leant forward to kiss her cheek and neck gently.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

She didn’t reply.

‘You can stay here. Or go back to Hogwarts. I’d understand. But it’s your choice. Not mine.’

She sighed. ‘I’ll think about it.’

He paused. 

‘Whatever happens,’ he continued, his voice still soft, ‘it’ll be alright. I promise.’

‘Mm.’

‘I’d like you to stay.’

She let her tired eyes fall shut and let out a great sigh. ‘Maybe.’

‘Okay.’

‘I’m gonna sleep.’

‘Okay. Night, love.’

Hermione hummed, desperately trying to stay mad at the man cuddling up behind her, but finding it tremendously difficult.

-

Remus was on his very best behaviour for the rest of their stay at Lupin Cottage. The morning after their row, Remus woke unnaturally early to make an overly elaborate breakfast for the two of them. He postponed his duties to protect the house to take her to town, offering to buy this and that for Hermione – to no avail, as Hermione was opposed to spending money she was acutely aware Remus didn’t have. She enjoyed his company, however, and appreciated the effort he was making. She did stay for the rest of the Easter holidays, and didn’t regret it one bit.

Their final week together should have been blissful. It seemed perfect, a sublime combination of the whirlwind romance of the honeymoon phase of new lovers and the comfortable, secure domesticity of old married couples. But Hermione – and Remus, she presumed – couldn’t shake off the fact that someone was aware of them now. And that fact followed them around like a ghost.

Draco knew about them, and that was one thing. Hermione often suffered fleeting anxieties about his guilty knowledge, but, ultimately, she trusted him. But he had his own secrets, his own mysteries. He understood better than anyone how important it is to keep those secrets safe. He knew that sometimes a problem shared is a problem doubled. Remus had begrudgingly come to terms with Draco’s knowledge of them, and he had learnt to trust him, too. 

But another person? And that person being Sirius? He was so protective, so suspicious, always seeing the potential for terrible things to happen, seeing evil and corruption in the most innocent of things. He couldn’t be blamed for that – twelve years of Askaban would do that to the best of people. But Sirius was one of the worst people who could possibly find out. 

Well, Hermione thought. That wasn’t entirely true. There was Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, any of the other professors, her parents, the majority of the Weasleys, the entire student body...

And Sirius knowing would inevitably lead to Harry knowing. Then Ginny, then Ron, then Lavender – which made Hermione feel sick – then Parvati and the rest of the giggling gaggle of girls in Hermione’s dorm, who would gossip to whoever would listen and eventually everyone would find out, and Remus would lose his job and Hermione would be expelled and their names would be dirt for all eternity…

Hermione hadn’t realised she had started to make herself sick with worry. Remus perked up from across the dinner table, perhaps having noticed her heart thudding like a drum in her chest.

‘You alright, dear?’ 

‘Not hungry,’ she mumbled, tossing her spoon into the bowl of untouched soup and watching it slowly sink and drown.

Remus eyed her.

‘It’s about Sirius, isn’t it?’

She shrugged.

‘We’ve talked about this,’ he sighed. ‘Sirius promised he wouldn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t like… this,’ Remus said awkwardly, motioning between the two of them, ‘but he doesn’t want either of us in trouble. He hates me right now, but he loves us both.’

‘But he will tell people. He’ll tell Harry, I know it. Or he’ll give it away or make it obvious somehow.’

‘And so what if Harry finds out? How do you know Draco won’t tell him?’

‘Why would Draco tell him?’ she snapped.

Remus cocked an eyebrow.

‘What?’ she said, thrusting out her hands.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I sense that Draco reserves some emotions for Harry you may not be aware of. That Draco himself may not be aware of…’

Hermione blinked at him.

‘Draco’s not gay, Remus. Now you’re just making stuff up.’

Remus shrugged and smiled as though he knew something she didn’t, and went back to his soup. She ignored that expression whenever it presented itself on his face.

‘If Sirius tells anyone, it’ll spread like wildfire, Remus. Then we’re done for.’

‘He won’t tell anyone. He wants to pretend it doesn’t exist, remember?’

‘But it does exist. And he won’t be able to pretend. Whenever he sees you or me or both of us there’ll be this massive elephant in the room.’

‘What do you want me to do, Hermione? Erase his memory?’

Hermione shrugged.

Remus rolled his eyes. ‘Sirius is a wanted man, Hermione, in case you’d forgotten. He can’t go walking around town spreading the local gossip, because he’d get rounded up and taken to prison in seconds. Anything he says won’t be taken seriously.’

‘It would be by Dumbledore. By anyone in the Order. Anyone who knows he’s innocent.’

‘He would never tell.’

Hermione shook her head in defeat, but she couldn’t shake off the albatross around her neck.

-

As stressed as she had been for the latter half of her Easter holidays, returning to school was no improvement. She now had a new abundance of homework and she and Remus had decided to meet only for the full moon. Absolutely no regular meetings in Remus’s rooms, absolutely no spontaneous visits and absolutely no naughty detentions. It was just too risky, and they were taking far more precaution now that Sirius knew about them.

Sirius’s reaction – shock, horror, disgust, shame, disappointment, anger… the list was endless – had been somewhat of a wake-up call. Hermione had come to romanticise her relationship with Remus. To her, it was a Romeo and Juliet forbidden romance, driven by unbridled passion. She supposed Remus felt similarly. They’d got all caught up in their emotions and their constant reassurance from the other that what they were doing was okay, that they’d forgotten what most people would think if they discovered the truth.

Hermione despised being around groups of couples more than ever. They got to hold hands in corridors and kiss in the towers and take strolls in the moonlight. Harry and Ginny seemed more insufferable than ever, constantly in each other’s arms. She supposed her increased hostility towards them was just jealousy, but she didn’t care. It was gross.

Draco agreed, refreshingly. The two were curled up in opposite chairs in the library, the Slytherin watching his friend work through seemingly infinite amounts of homework.

‘Oh, no, it’s not just you. They’re disgusting,’ Draco said with a dramatic sigh. ‘They make me glad to be single, Granger. They’ve possibly the most boring relationship I’ve ever witnessed. At the house all they did was sit around and cuddle and chat about their days. At least you and Lupin are pretty kinky.’

‘Ssh!’ Hermione hushed, eyeing the library.

‘Huh? Nobody’s here, hun.’

‘The walls have ears,’ Hermione whispered, scanning their surroundings before looking back to parchment.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. ‘What you on about?’

Hermione glared at him.

‘Sirius knows.’

‘Sirius?’

She nodded.

‘How?’

‘He came round the morning after the full moon to check how Remus coped. He thought Remus would have to spend it in his dungeon and worried about all the bad memories that would bring up-’

‘Woah, woah, woah,’ Draco interrupted. ‘Slow down. What dungeon?’

‘Remus has a dungeon in his cottage. Well, a basement. He used to be locked in there when he was a kid. Before wolfsbane, before he could control his mind. There’s not much else you can do for a rabid werewolf.’

‘Lupin has his own dungeon,’ Draco repeated. ‘I trust you two made appropriate use of it?’

‘What?’

‘Did he chain you up, Granger?’ Draco whispered, grinning. ‘Did he have whips?’

‘Anyway,’ Hermione continued, ignoring his questions. ‘Sirius came round to check on Remus and forced his way into the kitchen and saw all my things lying around and came bursting into the bedroom and found me hiding wearing Remus’s clothes and then we had to sit and tell him absolutely everything. And then he told us he was disgusted and didn’t want to be involved and left.’

Draco stared at her. 

‘That sucks.’

‘Thanks, Draco.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, I never claimed to be a counsellor,’ he snapped. ‘What are you gonna do?’

‘Hope Sirius keeps his promise and doesn’t tell anyone. Remus and I decided to lay low until graduation. I’m only going to see him on the full moon for now on. After I leave Hogwarts it’ll be technically legal for us to be together, so that’s when we’ll start to be open about our relationship. Slowly. We don’t want to arouse any suspicion that this was going on while I was still his student.’

‘Speaking of arousal,’ Draco said, ‘you’re only gonna meet Remus once a month?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘Won’t that be a little bit… frustrating, for the both of you? For your lover, in particular?’

‘We’ll just have to deal with it.’

‘Doesn’t he get horny as shit on the week leading up to the full moon?’

Hermione shot him an icy look. ‘He’s a grown man. He can cope.’

‘Better make sure you look as unsexy as humanly possible in DADA, then. No more unbuttoned blouses and sucking on quills.’

‘I have never done that,’ Hermione growled.

‘Sure you haven’t,’ Draco said, winking.

Hermione shook her head. ‘You know, Remus said something very interesting about you the other day.’

‘Is he threatened by my potent masculinity?’

‘Quite the opposite,’ Hermione smirked. ‘He said he thinks you have a bit of a crush on Harry.’

Draco stared at her in shocked silence before belting out a huge guffaw that echoed through the library.

‘Ssh!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, but that’s just hilarious. Honestly. That’s made my day. My week. My life. That’s genuinely the funniest thing I have ever heard.’

‘Remus has incredible senses, you know. He picks up on the changes our bodies go through that are invisible to most people.’

‘He must have a lurid imagination, too. Or perhaps he confuses revulsion with attraction.’

Hermione shrugged.

‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much,’ she mumbled.

‘Wolf-fucker.’

‘Fanboy.’

-

The week that followed their return to Hogwarts went perfectly smoothly. Hermione missed Remus dearly, but she threw herself into her work in attempt to distract her mind. Exams were coming up in only a few short months and the time seemed to be flying by. She scarcely believed seven years had already passed, and soon she’d be graduating and moving on from the castle she’d grown to love as her home.

In fact, everyone was starting to feel the pressure of the oncoming exams. The library started filling up with students, more and more by the day. It quickly became an inappropriate place for Draco and Hermione to meet to discuss their private discussions, but that was okay – even Draco was beginning to get into the rhythm of revision.

So the week was smooth-running and quite uneventful, albeit stressful. That was, however, until that Sunday.

Over breakfast, Hermione shot Remus a smile from behind her textbook, which he returned, flushing slightly, and actively focused on his breakfast. She grinned and turned back to her book. 

The flurry of owls flooded into the hall, dropping masses of envelopes and parcels and various other papers onto the tables. The usual burst of noisy excitement followed as everyone began to tear into their deliveries. Hermione didn’t have anything except her newspaper, which she’d read later. She didn’t take her eyes off her book.

But when the hall slowly fell into an alien silence, she looked up, and looked around. She looked first to Remus, who was staring solemnly at his lap. She looked to Draco, who was looking oddly sheepish, seemingly avoiding the eye contact of everyone in the massive room. She looked at her friends, who all had their heads buried in their newspapers. Confused, she placed her textbook in her lap, and picked up the newspaper.

In bold, black, angry letters, was the headline:

TWENTY DEAD IN TERRORIST ATTACK, KILLERS UNKNOWN

A moving photograph of a smoke-filled sky hanging over a decrepit cluster of buildings filled most of the front page. It took her a moment to realise what exactly the photograph was fixating on; a skull, with a snake writhing in its mouth and eye sockets, had been summoned in smoke and dusty cloud.

The noise level had risen to a low murmur, full of anxious whispers and gasps and the occasional cry and whimper. Everyone jumped when the great doors flew open and Dumbledore, a face like a storm and his cloaks billowing behind him, stalked through the centre of the room and up to the pedestal. The hall fell totally silent.

Hermione half expected the old professor to bellow out a speech like thunder and lightning, judging from his expression and posture. But Dumbledore paused, the entire population of the room holding their breath. And when he spoke, he spoke with a calm and restrain that seemed so utterly under his control it was as though the man could tame a hurricane.

‘A few minute’s silence for last night’s tragic loss,’ Dumbledore said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Hermione’s eyes fell to her lap and she stared at the textbook lying on her skirt. Suddenly, all her problems and concerns and anxieties didn’t really matter anymore, paling in total insignificance. But it wasn’t as though her troubles were washed away in a tide of relief – it was more like a great rolling tsunami had flooded her out and she was beginning to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, and it is a slightly shorter one than usual, I know - but I have a fun idea for the next one, so hopefully that'll make up for it (or not? I hope so, anyway).
> 
> I don't think I'm going to put up a formal hiatus on this fic because to be honest, I don't want to stop writing it but I just get to write less and less often. My exams are in two months so I'm preparing for those, so while that means updates will be less often and irregular, writing is a good way to de-stress so I don't want to put limits on anything.
> 
> Thanks a million for all the support, it all means the world to me. xxx


	37. Remus's Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I don't know if you guys are still reading this, I'm so sorry this took such a long time, again. It's an extra-long chapter this time though, and it's something a bit different, so I hope you enjoy it. Basically the last few months I've been very ill with various problems which really stunted the writing process and I feel so guilty it took forever. If you're still reading, thanks so much for sticking with me!

MONDAY

 

The news that had struck the Wizarding World that morning had sent everyone, including himself, into a numb, almost dreamlike state. For a whole week, the entire castle was invaded by zombies. The students, the staff, even the ghosts and the paintings and the owls, cats and toads were quiet, miserable, and, frankly, terrified.

The snake-wrapped skull that had appeared in the skies was You-Know-Who’s mark. He couldn’t be back. That was just fact, or so everyone had collectively decided to believe as indisputable. But he was gaining followers. That was just fact, too. And his followers had killed twenty wizards and witches in the early hours of Sunday morning, before the sun rose. A couple of the victims were children.

A full week passed. And on Monday, everyone made the unspoken decision to carry on as usual and act like nothing had changed, even though everything had. The staff were instructed to keep to their normal timetables and routines and continue as planned. It quickly became an unspoken rule not to discuss the twenty dead. It was perceived as gossip, and bad luck.

So on Monday morning, Remus rose early, as planned, and showered and dressed, as planned, and prepared for his first lesson with his seventh years, as planned.

The one good thing about Remus’s affliction is that it was utterly predictable. As planned, Remus woke with all the familiar feelings alive and writhing in his flesh and bones that marked the beginning of the week before the full moon. He sighed and growled, stretching out every painful cramp and massaging every discomforting ache.

On the first day, Remus usually just dealt with nasty little pains. His pain threshold had become unnaturally high over the years, so he mostly didn’t notice when his muscles tensed and his joints clicked. The first day was always the easiest, the simplest.

He stepped under the steaming hot streams of water and sighed, the heat soothing every tension and knot that had built up during the night. He dressed in the robes Hermione had given him for his birthday, because wearing them made him happy, and grabbed his briefcase with one hand with a slice of toast in the other. He didn’t feel like breakfasting in the Great Hall today – not after the events of the day before.

He arrived in an empty classroom and groaned slightly as he slumped into his chair. He’d planned for his students to do mock examinations this week, so he could sit down and sip tea and mark papers for most of his time.

One by one, students trickled into the room. He smiled warmly at Harry and Ron, and tried to greet Hermione as naturally as he could, hoping the butterflies in his chest would piss off once he’d said hello. She bit her lip a little when she smiled and he couldn’t help but gaze at her for just a second too long before clearing his throat and greeting whoever else had entered the room. He hadn’t even noticed Draco at Hermione’s side, who was smirking at the two of them as he usually did. 

‘Right,’ he announced over the class’s casual conversation. ‘Mock exams. Sorry, but they’re important. Hate me now, and love me when you all pass with flying colours.’

His eyes shot to Hermione, who was ignoring Draco whispering something undoubtedly naughty in her ear. He swallowed, looked away, and with a flick of his wand the stack of papers sat on his deck flew off and scattered neatly around the classroom, one landing in front of each student. 

‘This is your theory. It doesn’t count as much as your practical, as you know, but forty percent is still a big number and can still mean the difference between a pass and a fail. Exam conditions, please. Starting… now.’

He glanced at his pocket watch, took a mental note of the time, and leant back in his chair with a silent sigh. 

Remus had never really liked silence. Silence by himself was fine, and usually he’d have a fire burning or music gently playing, or he’d listen to the birds sing or the wind howl. But silence in rooms full of people had always been deeply uncomfortable for him, because the truth was, they weren’t silent.

Ron had an irritating habit of sucking his teeth when he was thinking, creating this insufferable slurping squeak. Harry jiggled his left leg up and down. Neville huffed and puffed with frustration approximately every thirty eight seconds. Draco tapped his quill on the table when he got bored, which was often. Hermione, as much as he adored her, wrote so quickly and furiously the quill scratched loudly against the parchment, and all he wanted to do was grab it from her hand and toss it across the room.

Admittedly, that wasn’t all he wanted to do to her. He watched her for a long while. He could get away with it now, as everyone was so fixated on their exams. He watched as she chewed at her bottom lip, her mouth pink and wet and slightly enlarged. Every so often a long curl would fall to her face and she’d delicately tuck it behind her ear, only for another strand, or maybe the same one, to fall back again a few minutes later. Despite being so focused, she was such a fucking fidget. She’d cross and uncross her bare legs, kick off her shoes and stretch out her toes, flex her hands and arms and back and neck. When she stretched her back her chest rose and her breasts pushed against her blouse, the buttons straining just a little bit. He was utterly transfixed, and semi-hard under the desk.

He casually placed his hands over his crotch. Sirius had probably thought about this sort of thing, assuming Remus was constantly lusting after this young girl, his student, nonetheless, in this shameful, predatory, way. To be fair, if Sirius had assumed this, he’d be absolutely correct. Hermione had always reassured him about his concerns, and he was grateful for that. But sometimes – particularly times like these – he felt totally ashamed of himself. 

Of course, he thought to himself, that shame didn’t exactly stop him from doing anything. He was eagerly looking forward to seeing Hermione this Sunday. Their visits would be monthly now, until she graduated. He could barely contain his excitement. 

He realised Draco was staring at him, an unbearably smug little grin planted firmly on his lips. Remus narrowed his eyes and motioned to the paper on his desk. Draco flashed his eyebrows and winked, and went back to his work. Little shit, Remus thought.

The hour passed and Remus announced the end of their exam with a purposeful clearing of his throat, standing to his feet and walking to the front of the classroom. Everyone but Hermione put their quills down. He raised an eyebrow at her, strolled to her desk, and plucked the quill from her hand. This earnt a few sniggers at Hermione’s expense, but she didn’t take any notice, much to Remus’s secret delight. She blinked at him in surprise, flushed a delectable shade of pink, and pouted.

‘Right. You’re all free to escape. Leave your papers on your desk, I’ll collect them in.’ 

Everyone took this opportunity to rush off, chattering and gossiping once again. Everyone but Hermione, who took an awfully long time to pack up her things and then quite kindly offered to collect in the papers for him. She knew the symptoms of the full moon, and knew he was in mild agony today. He sighed and let her walk about, stretching over desks to collect everyone’s exams, and idly wondered what wonderful thing he’d done to deserve the brilliant, beautiful woman demanding her quill back.

 

TUESDAY

 

By Tuesday, Remus no longer had any pains left in his body. However, he moved onto the next stage – terrible nausea. Possibly the least attractive of all the stages.

He woke horribly early and half-ran, half-staggered into his bathroom and violently threw up into the toilet bowl, holding his hair from his face. He sat on the shower floor for a long time, clutching his knees and shuddering. He managed half a cup of tea and skulked off to his first lesson, wondering if anyone would too seriously judge him if he decided to crawl instead of walk.

After a tedious lesson – he didn’t teach Hermione that day, after all – he retired to the staffroom for a free period, one that most professors happened to share due to the structure of this year’s timetables. It was the same every week. It was the staff’s version of a common room, and was similarly fashioned, though instead of house-coloured it was a mostly purple room. Almost every member of staff was there, and Remus quite enjoyed watching them in this environment. The staffroom had a habit of displaying each individual in a very revealing way.

Dumbledore stayed in his office, so was not present – similarly, Hagrid chose to reside in his hut. But apart from those two, pretty much everyone else was there. McGonagall always sat in the same, slightly stiff-looking chair, sipping black coffee and marking papers, mostly by herself if she could help it. Professors Sinistra, Burbage, Babbling, Sprout, Vector and Hooch sit together, the gossiping bunch of witches usually the primary source of noise in the room. Professor Binns, the ghost, passes in and out, sometimes observing, sometimes clearly lost in thought. Flitwick will alternate between speaking to Remus, to McGonagall, to the group of witches and even tolerating Trelawney on the days she decides to emerge from her classroom. Snape sits in the corner furthest from Remus eating nothing and saying nothing.

Remus took his usual armchair by the fire and unashamedly hugged his personal hot water bottle to his stomach. He caught McGonagall’s eye and she smiled at him pityingly, shaking her head slightly, before returning to her marking.

Snape entered shortly after Remus arrived and stalked across the room. He flashed a furious glare at Remus and, narrowing his eyes at the hot water bottle cradled in his arms, sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.

‘You’re pathetic, Lupin,’ he muttered.

‘Time of the month, I’m afraid.’

Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes again. Remus wondered what would happen if they got stuck at the back of his head as the other man strutted off to his lonesome corner.

Remus sat rather peacefully until a few names popped up in the witches’ conversation that grabbed his attention. Harry and Ginny were the subject of discussion today, apparently. The staff constantly spoke about their students, usually just gossiping or debating their progress and being careful not to cross the line into bitching. But today they were discussing the most famous couples in the school, and harking back to their own relationships at that age.

‘Now, I can honestly say, I can see that relationship lasting,’ Hooch shrugged. ‘They’re a very sweet couple. Very co-operative in Quidditch, very patient and supportive with each other.’

‘Yes. Very mature.’

‘What about their friends – Ron and uh –’

‘Lavender,’ one witch said.

‘No,’ about four chimed at once.

‘Won’t last, won’t last.’

‘I really do hope Neville finds somebody after school,’ Sprout sighed. ‘He’s such a sweet boy, he’s just so shy.’

‘And what about…’

Remus zoned out and eyed McGonagall, who raised her eyebrows and shook her head again. She never got involved with this sort of tedious conversation.

‘No, that won’t last five minutes.’

The witches hummed.

‘Now. What about Draco Malfoy’s rather curious relationship with Hermione Granger?’ one of them said.

Remus perked up again, but stared straight ahead, and tried to look as though he wasn’t listening.

‘Now they’ve grown very close, haven’t they?’

‘Very odd. Considering all the conflict in the past.’

‘I suppose people change. Especially at that age.’

‘They were supposedly meeting up at night, were they not?’

‘That’s what I heard. Minerva’s so boring, though, she doesn’t tell us anything – do you?’ 

McGonagall looked over from her work for only a second, just so she could frown at them disapprovingly.

‘I don’t think they’re anything more than friends. I think Draco is…’

‘Gay?’ One witch offered.

‘You know, I’ve always wondered.’

‘He’s very… well-groomed, isn’t he? I know that’s partly his wealth, but…’

‘He’s very impeccable.’

‘Quite pretty, for a boy.’

‘And that whole thing with Potter on Valentine’s Day…’

The witches all hummed and ooh’d and aah’d.

‘Now, wasn’t that just a scene?’

‘See, I thought that was actually because Draco quite fancied Ginny.’

‘Oh, that’s a thought…’

Snape had been watching and listening, much like Remus and, seemingly, McGonagall. He cleared his throat. 

‘Won’t you all consider talking about something of importance, for once?’ he pleaded. ‘All this clucking is giving me a migraine.’

They collectively ignored him.

‘Ah, see, I think Granger has different tastes from Malfoy, anyway.’

‘Oh?’

‘I think she might have a little crush on Remus, as it happens.’

Remus felt the nausea that plagued him on the second day rise in his throat, though he wasn’t at any loss as to what caused that particular bout. He swallowed, and turned to them innocently. Everyone was looking at him.

‘Oh, have you noticed that, too?’ one witch said. ‘Now, isn’t that just the cutest thing.’

‘I don’t… uh…’ Remus stuttered.

The witches giggled. McGonagall seemed to be assessing Remus curiously, a strange little smile on her face. Snape was staring at him with an indiscernible snarl.

‘What d’you reckon, Remus?’ One witch piped. ‘You must be able to tell, it’s always obvious, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Remus said, praying the heat in his face wasn’t apparent.

‘Ah, are you blushing?’ One witch said. Remus inwardly groaned. It was.

‘Stop teasing him, then.’

‘Now, it is quite sweet though, isn’t it?’

‘Hermione’s easily the brightest in the school. She must intimidate most boys, and she’s probably bored by most of them, too.’

‘It’s no surprise she’d fancy someone a bit older.’

‘A bit!’ one witch cackled.

‘Try almost twenty years.’

Remus felt really, really sick now.

‘Any thoughts, Lupin?’ Snape said suddenly. Remus glared at him.

‘I haven’t noticed anything,’ Remus shrugged, hugging the hot water bottle more tightly to his stomach.

‘Hmm,’ Snape hummed. A short, painfully awkward silence followed, until the group of professors burst back into conversation.

Remus must have been beetroot red. He stared at his shoes, trying to look unaffected, trying to remain utterly composed, but he was now lost in angry thought. 

Why does everyone think the idea of Hermione fancying him is cute and funny? Sirius even seemed to think the idea of him fancying Hermione was funny in a naughty kind of way. He practically encouraged it, in fact, assuming Remus would never act on those feelings. Remus supposed his colleagues would find the idea of him and Hermione adorable up until the point it became real, at which point it would suddenly become repulsive, predatory, sinful and absolutely shameful. That seemed to be the twisted way it worked. Momentarily, he hated and resented every single person in the room because of it.

 

WEDNESDAY

 

Remus slept through most of Wednesday. Wednesday’s primary symptom was long-lasting fatigue. He practically fell out of bed after forcing himself to wake up, and the lovely warm water gushing over him very well almost sent him straight back to his slumber. He remembered he was having a very nice dream before his alarm clock screamed into his ears.

‘Didn’t get much sleep last night, eh, sir?’

Dean and Seamus had strolled into his lesson first, and caught him with his face in his hands. Remus jumped and blinked at them, and simply had to pull on his reading glasses. He rarely needed them, and didn’t particularly like wearing them, but today it was absolutely impossible to focus on one thing too long without ending up with a monumental headache.

‘Up all night,’ Remus lied.

‘Having a bit of fun, eh?’ Dean grinned.

‘If you call marking your papers fun, yes. Which I don’t, for the record.’ Remus tossed the two boys their exams with a small grin.

‘Not bad at all. Well done.’

‘Are we having a decent lesson today, sir?’ Seamus groaned.

Remus gasped dramatically, acting scandalised.

‘Every lesson of mine is decent, Seamus. Actually, not just decent. Fantastic. Aren’t these sessions the highlights of your week?’

Dean and Seamus exchanged sceptical smiles and chuckled. Remus grinned, turning his attention to the door. His senses were getting better by the day and he could smell Hermione. He silently scolded himself. God, that was creepy.

As he predicted, Hermione and friends appeared in the door only seconds later. When she took her seat, he delicately planted her massively long paper in front of her. 

‘Very well done, Miss Granger,’ Remus murmured.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Hermione replied. She licked her lips, which sent a thrill down Remus’s spine.

‘Like the glasses.’

‘Shut up,’ Remus mumbled, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. 

Remus hated coffee, particularly sweet, but drank gallons of the stuff all day. The stuff he was drinking had a higher content of coffee beans and sugar than it did water, and it was absolutely disgusting. But it kept him awake long enough to run a day’s worth of lessons, and rather active lessons they were. He’d ordered the class to practice their disarming charms, but he was too tired to keep his students from running amok and doing what they pleased. He didn’t care enough to stop them, so long as they weren’t hurting anyone or breaking anything.

He sat at his desk, bleary-eyed, trying to block his eyes from the constant blinding flashes of light and colour that burst from somebody’s wand every five seconds. The shouting was beginning to get on his nerves, too, but he couldn’t be bothered to bellow over them and create even more noise as it was.

Hermione appeared at his desk.

‘Y’alright?’ she asked softly.

He nodded, yawning. 

‘Knackered.’

‘This bunch of children can’t be helping.’

‘Not really, no.’

She paused.

‘Why not tell them to shut up and do what they’re supposed to do sensibly? You know. Act their age.’

Remus shrugged.

‘Too tired. They won’t, anyway. Not worth the stress.’

‘Remus.’

‘Only ten minutes left.’

‘Forty, actually,’ she said, somewhat amusedly.

‘Oh, Christ. No. There’s ten. I refuse to believe otherwise.’

He rubbed his temples, and heard Hermione sigh.

‘Hold on.’

She cleared her throat, and Remus opened his eyes and looked up at her as she assumed a strong stance, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

‘Oi!’ she shouted.

The class collectively ignored her.

She pursed her lips.

‘Oi!’

Not a soul acknowledged her existence.

She huffed.

‘Told you,’ Remus muttered.

‘That’s it, they asked for it. Close your eyes.’

He obeyed. 

Even through his closed eyelids he could see the blinding white light that flashed and filled the room, accompanied by a noise that sounded like a firework. Once everyone could see and hear again, including Remus, everybody groaned and mumbled and cursed Hermione angrily.

‘What you playing at, Granger?’

‘Listen. Our professor told us to practise disarming spells, so that’s what we’re doing, now. We’ve all had our fun, so let’s get on with it properly, now.’

‘Who put you in charge?’ A Gryffindor boy whined.

‘I’m not. I’m just reminding you what sir wanted us to do.’

‘Why doesn’t he just tell us himself?’

‘Because Remus is feeling under the weather at the moment, and he can’t be dealing with all of you,’ Hermione snapped.

Everyone stared at her. Remus winced. She’d only gone and done it. She used the R-Word in front of everybody.

‘Ooo, Remus!’ one Slytherin boy chimed.

‘Remus, Remus!’

‘Ooo, Remus, are you feeling okay, Remus?’ 

‘Love me, Remus!’

‘Am I your favourite, Remus?’

The class descended into a different kind of insufferable chaos. Remus, who had decided his name no longer sounded like a name but more like a weird noise, clapped his hands together and shouted over the giggles and the cooing.

‘Alright, alright, we get it, shut it,’ Remus growled. ‘Hermione is absolutely right. Get on with your task.’

‘Sorry, sir. We didn’t mean to upset your fave.’

‘Yeah, we just didn’t realise she’d decided you were her husband, all of a sudden.’

Draco sniggered. He’d been watching the entire scene with great amusement. Remus gazed at Hermione, who had flushed a dark shade of red and looked positively humiliated.

‘Yes, well, you did,’ Remus sighed. ‘And that’s alright. Get on with your work. I’m sure my wife is absolutely fine.’

A few people chuckled, and everyone returned to the task at hand. Remus caught Hermione’s eye and smiled at her reassuringly. She smiled back, shrugging and crossing her arms, and wondered off to meet Draco. 

Remus really hoped the other professors didn’t find out about this little event.

 

THURSDAY

 

Physically, Thursday was probably the best day for Remus in the entire week. No pains, no aches, no nausea, and he was wide awake and ready for action. Emotionally, however, he was absolutely disastrous. 

His alarm annoyed him. Waking up annoyed him. Getting out of bed annoyed him. He couldn’t get the damn temperature of his morning shower just right, and he couldn’t get dressed without accidentally pulling threads, and he couldn’t tie his laces without pulling one end too far and losing the knot altogether, and having to start again. He tossed one shoe across the room out of sheer frustration, and then realised, much to his dismay, he had to get up and retrieve it, because he did actually rather need it.

He went to breakfast in the Great Hall and, apparently, each and every person seemed to be intent on irritating him that day. Hagrid had accidentally walked into him and pushed him over, and when he helped a fuming Remus to his feet, he apologised profusely and rambled an excuse.

‘Sorry, Remus, ‘s jus’ yer so tiny and li’l for a bloke, s’all, genuinely didn’ see yer stood there…’

Multiple students had witnessed Remus fall over and then have his stature remarked about, and had decided it was utterly hilarious. A Hufflepuff had accidentally stepped on Remus’s cloak. A Gryffindor first year walked into him and didn’t apologise. Flitwick took the last of the bacon at the staff’s table. An owl dropped Remus’s post – a rather important-looking envelope – right into his bowl of porridge, which was bland and horrible anyway.

Yes. Everything was annoying that day, and Remus’s mood gradually worsened as the day progressed. But his fury didn’t quite peak until Snape brushed past him in the corridor, pushing Remus, the smaller man, aside. That was it.

‘Yeah, don’t worry about it, Severus, that’s fine!’ Remus chirped, his voice dripping with vicious sarcasm.

Snape stopped suddenly and whipped around to turn him on his heel, his face like thunder. They were hardly alone – the corridors were absolutely chock full of students who had stopped to witness the conflict.

‘What did you say, Lupin?’ he spat.

Remus wasn’t thinking anymore. He just spoke.

‘Oh, well, you know how you just shoved right into me like you didn’t know I was there, but I presume you did know and you actually shoved into me on purpose? Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Don’t apologise. In case you were, you know, considering apologising, like a decent human being.’

Snape stared at him in utter disbelief as though some nasty substance he’d stepped in had started to shout at him from the bottom of his shoe.

‘Maybe this isn’t the best place to throw one of your little tantrums, Lupin,’ Snape said, his gaze sweeping across the herd of surrounding students.

‘Don’t be such a condescending prick,’ Remus snarled. ‘Though I understand that’s difficult, since that’s what comes most naturally to you.’

Snape’s mouth fell open a little bit. 

‘Now, just when did you get so outspoken?’ Snape said curiously.

Remus looked at him.

Snape stepped forward until he was only inches from Remus’s face. Everyone stared at them, stunned.

‘Maybe you’re picking up bad habits from your little girlfriend,’ Snape whispered in his ear.

‘Fuck off, Severus,’ Remus mouthed.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, f–’ 

‘Uh, excuse me!’ a shrill voice shrieked. ‘Why are you all just stood around? Don’t you all have lessons to get to?’

McGonagall was bustling through the crowds that had gathered around the two professors, and her presence had caused them to slowly dissolve. Her presence had also caused Remus to realise what exactly he’d done.

The witch approached the two men and stared at them.

‘Care to explain what happened there?’

‘It’s fine,’ Remus said, crossing his arms. 

Snape was grinning at him, a sly, wide grin.

‘Right. Well, if you two have any differences you felt needed to be confronted, did you not consider it that was inappropriate to talk through these differences in front of a corridor full of your students?’

‘I did,’ Snape drawled. ‘Though I believe Lupin has slightly different opinions about what is appropriate when it comes to his students.’

‘Severus, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I swear…’

‘Enough!’ McGonagall shrilled. ‘You’re acting like first years!’

‘Anyway,’ Snape said, frustratingly composed, ‘I have a lesson to teach. Excuse me.’

And with that, he strolled off as though he had no care in the world.

He gets off on humiliating people, Remus thought furiously.

‘Remus,’ McGonagall said softly. ‘Are you alright?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Admittedly, I’m quite sensitive today. Easily irritated. It’s… the condition, I’m afraid. Severus just got on my last nerve.’

‘Well. As understandable as all of that is, remember you are a professor here, not a student. Keep it professional, Remus. I won’t report this little argument to Dumbledore this time. Let’s hope Severus doesn’t.’

Remus nodded sheepishly, and the witch disappeared.

All he wanted was for Sunday to come faster.

 

FRIDAY

 

Remus hated when the fifth day landed on a weekday, because it was always the worst to contend with. When Hermione wasn’t able to spend time with him, the fifth day was typically when his frustration peaked.

Remus woke to wet pyjamas and bedsheets. He groaned. Mornings like this, waking up with a hard on and cum all over his own thighs, took him right back to his most humiliating years of school.

He pulled off his sticky pyjama bottoms and stripped his bed, tossing both in the laundry basket. He took care of his erection in the shower, thinking about Hermione fingering herself to finish quickly so he could take care of the rest of his ablutions. He emerged from the shower feeling dirtier than when he’d got into it.

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione.

She was all that was on his mind, and, today, his mind wasn’t located in his head. He made a special effort to ignore her completely when she came flouncing into his classroom, and barely looked at her all lesson. He was worried that if he did, she’d do something and he’d not be able to control himself. 

Maybe he could pretend she was in trouble for something, and she could stay after the lesson for a detention, and she could suck him off…

No. Maybe not the cleverest idea in the world.

He hated being able to sense everything so clearly, so vividly. He could tell that Draco was agitated about something, he could tell Neville was hungry, he could tell that Ron was bored out of his mind, and he could tell that Hermione was irritated and upset, due to being ignored. He also knew whenever she was turned on. He knew when her heart sped up, when she got hotter, when she began to sweat, when she got wetter for him…

He paced around the class, occasionally offering the odd student advice about their motion or stance or pronunciation. Of course, he avoided Hermione like the plague. 

This was difficult. Agonisingly difficult. Which is why he was really pissed off when she made it so that he couldn’t avoid her anymore.

‘Er, Professor?’

Oh, no.

‘Professor? Can you help me with this?’ 

He didn’t meet her gaze when he approached her and Draco.

‘With what?’

He sensed her get a little upset with his sharp tone. Brilliant. Now he can add guilt to his long list of reasons why today was an absolutely horrible day.

‘Well, you know, I’ve always had a little trouble with my stance…’

Remus pursed his lips. He looked at Draco, who was staring at the two of them intently.

‘Okay. Well. From what I’ve seen it looks absolutely fine, so, keep doing what you’ve been doing, Hermione,’ Remus said tiredly.

Hermione took a step closer to him, and whispered ever so quietly, ‘how have you seen it when you’ve barely looked at me all lesson?’

He finally met her gaze, her curious, studious gaze.

‘Fifth day, Hermione,’ he said quietly. 

She looked at him, sighed, nodded, and murmured, ‘alright. I think I get it.’

He nodded at her curtly before moving away, ignoring Draco’s comment about a ‘lover’s tiff’.

Remus hadn’t meant to overhear Draco’s comment – he just had incredible hearing, and Draco had a loud whisper. Remus also hadn’t meant to overhear a discussion between some of the students on the other side of the classroom, but he did.

‘…fucking winds me up.’

‘It’s literally favouritism.’

‘It’s just embarrassing, really, I mean, look how needy and pathetic she is for his attention.’

‘That’s the sort of thing you do when you’re a kid. Not when you’re eighteen and just about to graduate seventh year.’

‘Yeah, well, I guess she can’t get any attention from guys her own age, so she tries to get it from guys who are paid to give her attention…’

Remus was moody, tired, frustrated and stressed. He was guilty, lonely, and pining for Hermione – in fact, he was pining for this year to be over, so he wouldn’t have to hide anymore. He was so sick of hiding. He’d spent his whole life doing it, one way or another.

And he was really fucking sick of people judging him and judging those he cared most dearly about.

He turned to the group of students, a small band of Slytherins, who were stood up against the wall murmuring quietly to themselves and shooting Hermione and Draco filthy looks.

‘Have something to say to the class?’ Remus asked loudly. 

Everyone turned to look at Remus and the students he was speaking to.

‘Uh… sorry, sir?’ one of them mumbled.

‘Sorry. Thought I heard you saying my name, or talking about certain members of the class. It’s rude to talk behind people’s backs, you know. Though, it’s ruder within earshot, I’d say.’

They all glanced at each other.

‘Sorry, sir.’

Remus raised an eyebrow.

‘Right. Get back to work, then.’

He turned his back to them, breathing deeply in an attempt to remain calm. Hermione was staring at him confusedly. He wasn’t surprised. He’d been acting confusingly for the last few days, it had to be said.

He was sure those students would continue their bitching as soon as they were a safe distance from their super-human professor, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t want to hear it. It was bad enough having to listen to horrible things said about him – but having to listen to horrible things said about Hermione was where he would draw the line.

 

SATURDAY

 

When Remus awoke to the sound of a brisk knocking at his door, he wondered if it might be Hermione. He was so excited he’d even be willing to readily forgive her recklessly turning up at his doorstep after being caught by Peeves the last time.

He leapt out of bed and hurried to the door and pulled it open. There, a complete contrast to himself, was the very neat, prim and proper Professor McGonagall. She looked him up and down once, one thinly arched eyebrow slightly cocked. He suddenly felt quite exposed in his moth-eaten old pyjamas and with his mop of unkempt, unruly hair.

‘Oh. Morning, Minerva.’

‘Afternoon,’ McGonagall quipped, glancing at the clock on Remus’s wall.

Remus followed her gaze and realised it just had just gone noon. He scratched his unshaven face embarrassedly.

‘What can I do for you?’ he said, raising his hand to his mouth to hide a yawn.

‘I was actually hoping we could have an… informal meeting. Though I now realise that this isn’t the perfect time.’

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Uh… is it urgent?’

‘Quite.’

‘Okay. Um. In your office? I would offer you a seat in here, but…’

McGonagall scanned the room. It was a bit of a state.

‘At one?’

‘Alright.’

McGonagall nodded and disappeared. Remus watched her walk down the corridor until she turned round a corner out of sight, and then shut his door.

As he showered and dressed, he wondered, rather anxiously, what this ‘informal meeting’ could be about. Maybe the confrontation in the corridor. Or maybe the way he’d treated his students the day before – maybe they’d told on him. Or maybe she was knitting everything together, all the stuff from their gossiping colleagues, the ‘Remus’ event on the Wednesday, the snide remarks from Snape…

No. No, that was just speculation. McGonagall knew full well she couldn’t go around making accusations like that. Even if they were absolutely true.

Remus was horribly anxious as he entered his colleague’s office. He felt as though he were a student, not another professor. He supposed that, to be fair, he had been her student once – and had been dragged in and sat down and interrogated, along with the other Marauders, many, many times.

‘How are you feeling today, Remus?’ she asked, her voice a strange mixture of genuine affection and concern, yet with an unmistakeable severity.

‘Getting there,’ he replied flippantly. 

She waved her hand towards the chair opposite her and he flopped onto it, crossing his arms.

‘So, what’s this about?’ 

‘Well, Remus…’

Why was she stalling? She had to know. What else could it be? His heart was pounding.

‘Dumbledore and I have been discussing certain things,’ she began, her brow furrowing as though she were choosing each word with surgical precision.

‘Certain things?’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’

‘Like?’

‘Well… you.’

Remus swallowed.

‘What about me?’

Minerva wetted her lips and Remus sensed she was uncomfortable. Quite a rare sight.

‘Come on, Minerva, I feel like I’m in detention,’ Remus laughed, though he really just felt like running out of the room as fast as he could.

‘Yes, quite right. I’m sorry. Look, Remus, following… recent events…’

Oh, God. She knew. She knew about Hermione. This was it. It was all over.

‘We think it would be quite appropriate if you… left.’

Remus stared at her. His mouth was so dry but he felt like crying.

‘Left?’

She nodded, looking solemn.

Remus looked at her dumbly. He was being asked to resign. But they were being kind to him. They were being discreet. Perhaps they owed him that much. And besides, this was kind. This was generous. Considering all he’d done, he should be grateful.

But… no. None of the events of the week were concrete evidence for anything. A bit of favouritism perhaps? Maybe. But this was ridiculous. He was losing his job over speculation at best. Remus began to sober up, out of his momentary daze, and began bubbling with fury. He bet Snape had something to do with this. Or a lot to do with this.

He straightened himself up and glared at the woman opposite him.

‘And what recent events are these, exactly?’

She looked at Remus as though he were utterly mad.

‘Well… the terrorist attack, Remus,’ she said, blinking at him.

‘What?’

She looked at him.

‘The twenty dead, Remus? You know? Have you actually forgotten?’

He was insanely confused.

‘What – what did you think I was talking about?’

Remus looked around the room helplessly.

‘I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do, Minerva. Leave?’

‘Europe, Remus. Resume your work abroad. I know it was dangerous and I know you barely escaped unscathed, but… we believe the war is getting closer and we need all the support we can get.’

Remus didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream. They didn’t know! They didn’t know about Hermione! They were completely, absolutely in the clear. Hermione would be fine, he would be fine, they were both be fine…

But… he was going to Europe.

‘Do… do I have any say in this?’ he said quietly.

She eyed him. 

‘Well. Technically, it’s up to you. But you signed up to the Order, Remus, and you helped rebuild it, and you did take on a certain level of responsibility…’

‘But… what about my students?’

‘Well. Exams start next month…’

‘In two months, actually.’

She scowled. ‘Two months. Roughly. But by now, they should have learnt the syllabus. They should simply be revising now. Is that not so?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, yes.’

‘So, really, lessons are just… revising what your students already know. Correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which any professor can supervise. And besides, you only look after a small number of classes, Remus. Not many students would suffer without you at this point.’

He knew one that would.

‘So… next week…’

‘Next week?’ he cried, clenching his fist and barely stopping himself from thudding it onto the desk. ‘This is the notice I get? If I wanted to leave I’d have to give a month’s notice, at least.’

‘I realise that. But these aren’t typical circumstances. Dumbledore and I saw it necessary to allow you to spend the week leading up to the full moon at Hogwarts where we understand it is easier for you to cope. You have one more week to recover from tomorrow’s events, and to wrap everything up with your students, and say your goodbyes.’

‘So you want me gone by Sunday?’

‘Saturday,’ Minerva said quietly.

Remus slumped back in his chair.

‘Well, I don’t know what to say.’

Minerva bit her lip. ‘It’s for the greater good, Remus. Please, just…’

He listened to her voice trail off and then silence.

 

SUNDAY

 

After seeing McGonagall Remus had gone back to bed and stayed there. He remembered grabbing the bottle of whiskey he kept in his room – an untouched Christmas gift from Sirius – and drinking until he went numb and passed out. He woke up in the night with a jump, startled by dreams that would eventually be his reality. Walking until his whole body ached, thirst, hunger, endless forests, long nights, loneliness, conflict, hostility, agonising transformations… his life with Hermione right now wasn’t perfect by all means, but she was, and he hadn’t realised how lucky he was. Now he was going to lose all that.

He’d already travelled Europe for years. He would continue travelling until the war finally started – and who knows when that would be. A year? Maybe two, if they were lucky?

He was still drunk when he’d woken up in the night and wondered whether he could escape, dragging Hermione with him. They could go to his cottage or somewhere else. Live in the muggle world in secret, or maybe just leave the country. They could go to America or Asia, or something. But then he’d fallen asleep mid-fantasy, and woke up at midday Sunday sober, and deeply depressed.

He was usually anxious on the day before the full moon. Jittery, nervous, jumpy. His body was readying itself for the turmoil to come. But he didn’t care. He was lazy, bored. He did nothing all day. He barely managed to bathe and dress himself. 

He and Hermione had already planned their meeting. She’d been carefully setting up the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room for temporary Floo transport the entire week. It was going to initially lead to Remus’s offices, but if someone were able to discover it, this would look too suspicious. Instead it would lead to the Shrieking Shack. Sirius had left, returning to Grimmauld shortly after discovering Hermione and Remus. Sirius didn’t want to be around Remus anymore.

Remus turned up at the Shack quite a bit later than planned. He tumbled out of the fireplace into the first floor, finding Hermione curled up in an armchair only a few feet from him, arms crossed and wearing a surly expression.

‘Oh. Hello. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,’ she said curtly, glancing at her wristwatch.

Remus shrugged. ‘Sorry love, I, er, lost track of time.’

Hermione raised a sceptical eyebrow and stood up from her chair.

‘Well, I’ve been here an hour. So I’m a bit annoyed, Remus,’ she said, biting her lip.

‘Mm,’ Remus said. He was only half-listening.

‘I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me, though,’ she said, cocking her head and smirking. 

‘Okay. Yeah.’ He looked round the room. It was really dark and Hermione had lit a few candles, the wax dripping in heavy droplets onto the floor.

‘Any ideas?’ she said. She’d pressed herself up against him now, and was toying with the buttons on his shirt.

‘Right…’ 

She looked at him, and her grip on his shirt loosened.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

‘What? Yes, of course.’ He rubbed his temples and smiled at her wearily. ‘I’m sorry, I just… you know. Bit tired.’

She nodded. ‘Okay… well… how about you sit down and relax, then?’

He shrugged and nodded, his thoughts still elsewhere. He barely had a second to react before she’d planted her hands on his chest and shoved him onto the chair behind him. He flopped onto it, limp like a ragdoll, and watched her idly as she started to hastily undress herself. 

He was somewhat aware she was very turned on, a bit more so than usual. It had been a little while for them, he supposed. He felt the heat radiating from her core, felt her heart pounding, her mouth moistening. She’d been wearing her uniform but with nothing under it. In seconds she was stood in front of him completely naked except for her loosened tie still round her neck, fiddling the silk through her fingers.

He blinked at her. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers but God, he was depressed. And guilty. Normally this would drive him crazy. Normally he wouldn’t have even let her get this far, and he’d already have her on the floor or against the wall, pounding himself into her. But he was just sat there.

He knew she was beginning to sense something was wrong. She thought it was her. He felt a blush rise in her face and anxiety begin to overwhelm her excitement.

She tried to compensate, work harder. She spread her legs and stood over his lap, and leant forward and pressed her lips against his. But the position was awkward and uncomfortable, especially with him limp and lifeless underneath her, his hands just sat at his sides.

She thrust her tongue down his throat. Nothing. She nibbled at his lip and then pulled back, and started to lick and kiss his neck. Usually he did this to her. She began to undress him but he wasn’t co-operating, so she just undid the buttons on his shirt and unzipped his fly. When she started to suck his semi-hard cock he grunted and she finally submitted.

‘What the fuck, Remus?’ she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and knelt on the floor at his knees, crossing her arms over her bare chest. ‘What?’

‘Look, I’m just… do we have to do this here?’

‘What?’ she repeated. Her voice was getting more shrill as she grew impatient.

‘I mean, do you want to do this in this room? I mean, are we going to sleep here? Because we could go upstairs to bed. I mean, it would be comfier, and save us the time of having to crawl up the stairs later on after we’re already exhausted…’

She looked at him as if he were insane.

‘Remus, we’ve fucked in a forest. And slept in one.’

‘Not on the same day.’

‘Oh my God. What is wrong with you today?’

He was feeling uncomfortable with his dick out, so he pulled his trousers back up.

‘I’m just tired.’

‘That’s never stopped you before,’ she said, pursing her lips.

He shrugged. He didn’t want to tell her about Europe. Not now. Not ever.

Hermione stood up and pulled her blouse back on.

‘Look, it’s not that I don’t want to…’ he said cautiously. 

‘Then what is it?’

He shrugged. ‘I just…’

Hermione sighed. She looked around the room. ‘I know what it is.’

‘You do?’

‘The Shrieking Shack. I know it holds a lot of bad memories for you, Remus. I mean, five years of bad memories and more. And I know it’s weird because Sirius just moved out and we’d be… you know… doing it in his bed and his chairs and to make it worse he knows about us, so…’

He frowned. All that hadn’t even crossed his mind but now that it had, he was even less turned on than before.

‘Look. Let’s go back to your room, okay? I’ll leave earlier than usual. I’ll come back here, disable the network, and then get back to the common room before 6 o’clock. Nobody will know.’

‘Uh…’

‘Did this worry you that much?’ she asked, picking up her things.

‘Well…’

‘I mean… I know you’ve been drinking, Remus. I smelt it on your breath. I mean, alcohol kind of stunts the libido, you know?’

He nodded. He didn’t realise he was still somewhat inebriated.

‘It’s alright. I mean, I guess I had my hopes up for something a little bit… you know…’ she pulled at the tie around her neck and flashed him a grin. ‘But we can just relax. It’s okay.’

‘Hermione, listen.’

She stopped.

‘I’m leaving in six days.’

She looked at him.

‘What do you mean, leaving?’

‘The Order is shipping me off back to Europe. The terrorist attack has made them think the war is closer than we think. I’m resuming my task to recruit as many werewolf packs as I can.’

Hermione’s mouth fell open. She flopped onto the armchair opposite him.

‘I… this can’t be a coincidence.’

‘What are you talking about, Hermione?’ he sighed. ‘Of course it isn’t. This is happening because of the twenty people that got killed in You-Know-Who’s name.’

‘But why now? Two weeks later? They know about us, Remus.’

‘Who does?’

‘I don’t know. Snape. McGonagall. I mean, Dumbledore must do. He knows everything, Remus. How could he have not picked up on a student and a professor having an affair right under his nose? Oh, God…’

‘Hermione, nobody knows apart from Sirius, and he’s keeping his mouth shut.’

‘Remus, how did we think we could get away with this?’ she said. She was beginning to shake.

‘Hermione, calm down. It’s all fine.’

‘They’re carting you away because of me. They’re being kind by not exposing you and publically shaming you. And me. And they’re sending you off to both save your reputation and to keep you away from me.’

‘Hermione, that’s not it, honestly.’

‘Remus, why don’t you see what’s happening?’

‘Look, the same thought did cross my mind, but they wouldn’t just continue to let this happen if they thought it was.’

‘Oh, God, Remus. You’re going to Europe.’

He fell silent for a moment. 

‘Yes.’

‘It’s all my fault,’ she said. And with that, she burst into a flood of tears.

‘No, no, no, no, no it isn’t, no it’s not, my dear,’ he said, starting from his chair and rushing to wrap his arms around her. ‘No, this has nothing to do with you. You haven’t done anything wrong. If anyone has…’

‘D-don’t say it,’ she said, her words barely coherent through her blubbing.

‘Ssh, ssh. It’s okay. We’ll work something out.’

‘I want to come with you.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Why not?’ she snarled. 

‘Because you have exams in a month,’ he said, smiling weakly and nudging her in the side.

‘After exams, then.’

‘You want to come travelling round Europe as soon as you graduate? With me?’

She nodded.

‘Hermione, you must know that’s a ridiculous idea.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s dangerous. Insanely dangerous. I mean, you’d get bitten, Hermione.’

‘But-’

‘There’s no but. There’s no if, or maybe. You would. You will get bitten by a werewolf, Hermione, and you will become like me. You’ll turn into a monster and you’ll suffer this condition for the rest of your life. Your life will become full of misery and you would resent me for it forever. I couldn’t live with any of that.’

‘I could. I could live with it,’ she said, crying her words into his dampened chest.

‘No.’

‘You do it.’

‘What?’

‘Bite me. Turn me. Tonight.’

Remus could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He gripped her shoulders and held her firmly.

‘Look, Hermione. I know you’re upset. I am too. But don’t even joke about that.’

‘I’m not joking, Remus. I want to.’

‘Hermione, you have no idea how… how fucking stupid you’re being, okay? The fact that you’d even consider this for a second is – is – just insulting. It’s insulting, Hermione. This is one of the hardest things to live with. It’s a disease. And the fact that you’d give up your life like that makes me just… it just makes me realise how unhealthy this relationship is.’

She was staring at him now, horribly quiet.

‘What?’

‘We’re stopping this. Hermione, we have to. I’m leaving. There’s nothing I can do about it. There’s definitely nothing you can do about it. I don’t even know why we’re together, Hermione.’

‘I-’

‘I’m old enough to be your father. I’m your teacher. It’s wrong. I can’t believe I did this to you and I’m so, so sorry. But stopping this is what I can do to make it right. It’s the kindest thing I can do for you. You need to do your exams and get an amazing job and find someone your own age, someone sensible, someone that can treat you well and doesn’t put such a horrible burden on your life.’

He expected Hermione to fight back, to scream and to cry and to argue with him until her voice was hoarse. And she’d fight him until she got her way. She’d fight for him.

But she didn’t. She just looked at him. Pale, wet. There wasn’t any emotion in her eyes.

‘Go back to the common room. I’m going to sort everything out.’

He stood and crossed his arms and watched her. She sat still for a full minute. Then she carefully, slowly stood to her feet, half her clothes and her shoes a bundle in her arms, and stepped into the fireplace. Without a word’s goodbye.

Remus disabled the connection from the shack to the common room. Then he went back to his office, and did the same. He drank, passed out. He woke up to his transformation and promptly fell back asleep. He woke again to the second transformation and laid naked on his bed until the sunrise, white and still like a corpse.


	38. Depression

Hermione hadn’t known what real pain had felt like until that night.

She’d been bullied ever since she could remember. At Muggle school, bullied for being different, for being weird, for the way she looked. Freak, loner, that girl who can do strange things. She’d not had any friends. Discovering she was a witch had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. She got a new life, a fresh start, and so many answers to all the questions she’d been asking herself since she’d started walking and talking. Then Harry and Ron were the best things that had ever happened to her – real friends, her first friends, her only friends. 

At Hogwarts she was bullied for being different, for being weird, for the way she looked. Muggleborn, mudblood, strange, ugly, little bookworm. But things were better, and continued to get better. In her fourth year she got that much-needed dental work she’d craved and she’d just sort of grown naturally into her looks, and as people matured they stopped making fun of her. She realised people were jealous. Of her intelligence, of her perseverance, of her ambition. That was all. And everything was okay. 

And then Remus happened. And he was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to her. Even before they were together, before that night at Silverlake when it all happened for real, when all her dreams and all her fantasies came true. Even before all that. It had never just been a crush. She hadn’t believed in soulmates until Remus. She’d never been so happy in her life and she thought she was going to be with him forever.

Hermione had been in pain before. Her various adventures with Harry and Ron had dealt out enough for a lifetime and she’d had more than her fair share of cruelty from others. But nothing like that. Nothing like the feeling of Remus telling her that it was over and he was leaving. 

She stumbled through the fireplace and found herself in the common room. She wasn’t sure what happened after that. But she must’ve curled up on a sofa and fallen asleep, because she was woken with a gentle shake. She opened her eyes and saw Ginny, Lavender, Ron and Harry standing over her, looking concerned and quite bemused. She realised, with a terrible bout of nausea, that the events that had taken place just a few hours before hadn’t just been a nightmare.

‘Hermione? You okay?’ Ginny asked softly. She was knelt on the floor beside her.

‘Mm.’

‘Why are you asleep down here?’ she asked.

‘I… I just do, sometimes.’

‘Why are you in your uniform?’ Harry asked. 

Hermione looked down at herself. Her blouse was mostly undone, her skirt the wrong way round. She wasn’t even wearing socks or shoes. She realised she hadn’t put any underwear on and reddened, quickly crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her legs. God, this was humiliating.

‘I just… I just fell asleep, okay? I’m exhausted.’

‘Did you faint?’ Lavender asked.

‘I… I don’t remember. I think I just curled up here.’

‘Do you need to go to the hospital wing?’ Ginny asked.

‘No. No, I just want to go to bed.’

‘You need help?’ Ron asked.

‘No. Just. No. Thanks guys. I’ll see you in the morning.’

She hurried off to bed. She was desperately holding back tears and couldn’t cry in front of them. She couldn’t tell them why she was crying. And she was terrified that she might accidentally say something anyway.

She leapt onto her bed and dragged her canopies around her so that she was completely out of sight. She drew her wand, cast a muffling spell around her bed, and screamed as loudly as she could until her voice was hoarse and her head was pounding. When she was breathless, and ached, and exhausted, she dragged off her clothes and tossed them to the floor, pulling on a nightie and collapsing onto the mattress. She sobbed into her pillow for most of the night.

-

On Monday she didn’t go to breakfast. Or her first lesson. Or any lesson. She didn’t even get out of bed. She just laid there. She’d charmed her canopies so they couldn’t be opened and didn’t answer anyone that tried to talk to her. She only crawled out of bed once, in the middle of the night, to gulp some water straight from the bathroom tap and use the toilet.

She got away with it for a day. Then Tuesday arrived and she realised she was starving, thirsty and in much need of a shower, and everyone was wondering what was wrong with her. When she didn’t come down for breakfast, Ginny skipped it too and spent her morning negotiating behind Hermione’s canopies.

‘Come on, Hermione,’ Ginny begged. ‘Come out.’

‘No.’

‘Let me in, then.’

No response.

‘Are you okay?’

Nothing.

‘Well, clearly you’re not okay,’ Ginny muttered. ‘Look, are you ill? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?’

‘No.’

‘Well, why are you locking yourself inside your bed then, hmm, if you’re not ill?’

No reply.

‘I’m not playing a bloody guessing game, Hermione,’ Ginny said, getting rather impatient. 

‘I just want to be left alone.’

‘Why?’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

Nothing.

She heard Ginny groan. ‘Look, are you depressed? You have to be depressed, if you’re not ill.’

Hermione didn’t reply but she knew that Ginny would interpret her silence the way she wanted to.

‘That’s it, isn’t it? But what about?’ 

‘Look, Ginny, I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave me alone.’

‘You can’t stay there forever. You’ll make yourself ill and then die. You need to eat and drink and have a bath and get dressed and get some exercise, okay? Come to lessons? They’re really important now, I mean, exams are so soon…’

Hermione really couldn’t give a shit about her exams anymore. She lay motionless, listening to the sound of Ginny’s patience wearing thin.

‘Is it personal? You know, the fact you’re not talking to me?’

‘No.’

‘Can you talk to anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Harry?’ Ginny offered. ‘Ron? Uh… McGonagall? Oh, I don’t know… Luna?’

‘Ginny, go have breakfast.’

‘Professor Lupin?’ 

The sound of his name made Hermione’s chest tighten and the tears well up in her eyes again.

‘Fine. You know what? I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

Hermione sat up and listened to Ginny’s footsteps, wondering if she was pretending to walk away or if she actually had. She wasn’t going to open her curtains, anyway, just in case it was a trap. She ruffled Crookshanks’ fur affectionately. He was the only one allowed to see her.

About fifteen minutes passed and Hermione heard a mild commotion downstairs, the sound of charms and voices and footsteps. She furrowed her eyebrows and listened hard. A male voice.

‘Wow, the Gryffindor common room is a real shithole compared to ours, you know? I mean, it’s really tatty. Slytherins actually take care of our stuff. And I’ve never been a fan of the whole red yellow combo. Bit of a clash.’

Ginny was tolerating his conversation, humming and mumbling. 

‘Look. I’m gonna go to class. You try and talk to her. ‘Cos I’m not getting anything out of her.’

Draco grunted, and Hermione listened as Ginny left the room and shut the door behind her.

‘Okay, Granger. We’re alone. Just me. Me and you.’

‘Piss off, Draco.’

‘Whoa, okay. It was a real hassle getting me up here, you know? Half the Gryffindors protested to letting me take one step into the common room, and then McGonagall had to sort out the staircase to let a boy up. And I’m missing breakfast for this. It’s hash brown day, too. So, you know, least you can do is not be a bitch about it.’

She sighed. Draco did know everything already. If it would get everyone off her back…

‘Fine. Okay. I’m not coming out, though. You can come in.’

‘In bed with you? I’m not comfortable with that, Granger.’

‘Shut up, Draco,’ she said, rummaging around her duvet looking for her wand. She found it and disabled the immobilisation charm, and pulled back a curtain cautiously.

‘Wow, Granger. No offence but you look like shit.’

‘Okay. Leave.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry. You look beautiful.’

She sighed. ‘Come on.’

Draco eyed her bed nervously. ‘Listen. Let’s make a deal. I climb into bed with you and we have a pyjama party, but only if you take a shower and have a change of clothes first.’

She stared at him, deliberating, and submitted. She clambered out of bed, stumbling a little, and trailed away towards the bathroom.

After using the toilet, bathing, towelling herself dry and brushing her teeth, she hated to admit that she did feel quite a bit better. Her stomach growled aggressively and a sharp pain stabbed at her abdomen. God, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten in over a day.

She pulled on a t-shirt and some sweatpants, and walked back to her bedroom to find Draco perched on the end of her bed, rubbing Crookshanks’s belly. Two bacon sandwiches had also miraculously materialised.

She eyed them hungrily and Draco smirked. ‘Weasley brought them up. The male one.’

She sat down beside him and he watched her as she chowed down on it like an animal with an expression of moderate disgust, but then turned to interest.

‘Okay. So… what’s with the drama?’

She looked round the room. 

‘Look, the door’s locked, muffled, nobody can hear us. We can talk here,’ he sighed.

Hermione took a deep breath.

‘Lupin, isn’t it?’

She stared at him. ‘How – how did you know?’

‘Don’t be thick. What else is it gonna be?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘So what happened?’

Hermione picked at her nails. ‘He… well, we were going to meet Sunday night, you know, for the full moon. We had it all sorted out and I was so excited because I hadn’t… you know… spent any time with him a while… and he was acting so off with me. And I thought it was me, but then he told me he’s being sent to Europe to recruit werewolf allies for our side of the war. You know, like he did before. Because they think the war is going to happen sooner than they thought and we need to prepare for it faster. But he’s going away Saturday. And I wanted to go with him. Not straight away, but… I could travel with him, see the world with him. But he said it was too dangerous and then I said some stupid things and he got upset and said that our relationship is unhealthy, and wrong, and it’s better for everyone if we just end it, and we have to end it because he’s just going to piss off to Belgium or whatever anyway.’

She spoke without stopping for breath and by the time she finished her sentence, she gasped for air, spitting the last couple of words out in a hoarse sob. Draco sat in silence.

‘So he’s…’ he finally broke the silence.

‘Broken up with me? Yes. Leaving Hogwarts? Yes. Probably never going to talk to me again? Yep.’

Draco took a deep breath.

‘Fuck him, Hermione. Seriously.’

She normally found it a little bit charming when Draco referred to her by her first name, but she was too miserable to feel anything even remotely positive right now.

‘Just forget about him. I mean, he’s only just decided your relationship is unhealthy? After it’s been going on for months now? That’s bullshit, Hermione. He’s not even worth thinking about.’

She barely responded.

Draco spent the next hour trying to convince her that Remus was a waste of space and she shouldn’t even give him a second’s thought. And when that didn’t work, Draco – with a detectable hint of discomfort – wrapped an arm around her shoulder and let her sob into his chest. 

\- 

On Wednesday, Hermione finally decided to show her face around Hogwarts. She didn’t go to Remus’s lesson, of course, and she didn’t eat any meal in the Great Hall – she would make Draco fetch food for her every time, much to his irritation – for fear of bumping into her professor. In fact, she only took routes in the corridors she knew full well Remus would have no reason to take. She would ponder, as she walked down the less travelled paths, that maybe if she bumped into him now, when she least expected it, it would be a sign and he would stop and crumple to his knees and beg for her forgiveness and she could run off with him… after her exams, of course. But it didn’t happen. She never saw him.

Her exams were the one thing dragging her out from the comforting solitude of her chambers. She was starting to feel exam stress again, something that had temporarily fallen into the back of her mind, and she found herself frequenting the library even more often and was scarcely seen for a second without her face firmly planted in the pages of a book. She had just over a month to revise and it felt like barely anything.

Her friends quickly learnt that asking Hermione anything at all about what had caused her sudden breakdown got them nowhere. To her relief, Harry, Ron, and Ginny eventually decided that she’d had an exam stress meltdown for a couple of days and now she was compensating by revising in hard-core mode.

At Thursday lunchtime, while the trio were reading over theory in the library (Ginny didn’t have final exams to prepare for, so she was out enjoying her break with Luna in the warm spring weather) Harry suddenly groaned and shoved his face in the book open in front of him.

‘Oh dear,’ Hermione muttered, somewhat indifferently. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Mmmeeeehhhh,’ Harry groaned. ‘I don’t want to be an auror. I’ve decided. Too much effort.’

‘Me neither,’ Ron mimicked, and he too planted his face in the contents of the heavy tome at his desk.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She’d had this conversation a million times.

‘I dunno why you’re so keen, Hermione, I really don’t,’ Ron said, eyeing her enviously. ‘I mean, where do you get the motivation?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve always been motivated, Ron.’

‘But why? I mean, do you even know what you’re doing after Hogwarts? How do you work if you don’t know what you’re working towards?’

‘I suppose that’s why I work so hard. Because I don’t know and I want to give myself the best possible advantage when I finally realise,’ Hermione mused.

Ron huffed. ‘I think you’d make a good professor.’

Hermione smirked. ‘Thanks, Ron.’

‘She can take Professor Lupin’s place,’ Harry said nonchalantly.

Hermione’s heart leaped a little in her chest at the mention of his name and promptly sunk.

‘You what?’ Ron asked.

‘Or anyone, to be honest. I mean, McGonagall has gotta be retirement age soon, right? And Dumbledore is like, what, one hundred and fifty years old?’ Harry sniggered. ‘And I think the whole castle would thank you for replacing Professor Binns… or Snape! You’re practically qualified-’

‘Harry!’ Ron interrupted. ‘Whad’ya mean, replace Lupin?’

Harry eyeballed him. ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? Sirius told me that Lupin’s leaving Hogwarts this Saturday. Apparently they’re keeping it quiet because he’s leaving to go back to Europe and stuff, ‘cos of the war and everything…’ Harry lowered his voice into an almost incoherent whisper. 

Ron focused on an entirely different aspect to Hermione.

‘Shit, the war? Are they that worried about it?’

Harry nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, they think it’s basically around the corner, you know, with the…’ Harry looked around shiftily and mouthed ‘twenty dead’ at his friends.

Hermione wasn’t listening anymore. So Sirius knew Remus was leaving. Hey, it was probably him who gave Dumbledore the idea in the first place. She should have known he wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut for long. She felt sick.

‘Y’alright, Hermione?’

She looked at Ron, who was studying her with concern.

Hermione did her best to swallow her nausea.

‘Yep.’

And she went back to her book.

-

On Friday, Hermione found herself faced with a dilemma. Word had got out around the castle that Remus was leaving – however, the real reason (or, what Harry believed was the real reason, which differed considerably from Hermione’s theory) was unknown to most. Most people rumoured it was because of conflict with Snape after their confrontation in the corridor. Other people put it down to fear surrounding the infamous Defence Against the Dark Arts position, perpetuated by all the terrorism and bad omens as of late. 

Because everybody had discovered Remus was leaving, the staff had planned a farewell party outside as a much-appreciated break from the intense revision over the last few days. There would be food, butterbeer and some of the Weasleys’ best entertainment products on display. And Hermione felt as though she were somewhat obligated to attend, even though she didn’t particularly want to. She could easily get out of it by saying she was too into her revision, too worried… but, in the end, it was Draco who convinced her to come.

‘It’ll give you closure,’ he’d insisted, following her back to the Gryffindor common room. ‘Seriously. Goodbye, Remus. Thanks for all the sex and sorry you were such an arsehole by the end. All in all, glad I’ll never see you again.’

‘You’re not helping, Draco,’ Hermione huffed.

‘Seriously, though. You should go. You’ll regret it otherwise. Say what you have to say, say goodbye, and write that off as the end of your… thing. A nice ending to a lovely story.’

Hermione groaned. She knew he was right. It would give her closure and she would regret it if she didn’t. How could she leave it on such terrible terms between them? What if she never saw him again? 

She left her friend in the company of the Fat Lady whilst she changed into some nice clothes (in an attempt to fool Remus into thinking that she’d been doing absolutely fine without him) and gave herself a quick pep-talk in the mirror. She would do this.

The party was on the grounds and it was, surprisingly, quite well put-together considering how short notice it was. Almost everyone in the six and seventh years had attended and a large portion of the other five years were there, too. Hermione felt like an ant as she scanned the crowd for Remus. 

He was chatting away to some of the other professors when she found him and didn’t quite have the confidence to confront him. She waited a safe distance away, Draco next to her as a human shield. He’d taken to quietly bitching about various people around them, pointing out the Slytherins he particularly hated, the Gryffindors that most annoyed him, the stupidest Ravenclaws and the most secretly cruel Hufflepuffs. 

‘Tell you what, Granger, Slytherins get a bad rep for being, well, snakes, y’know, snakes in the grass, manipulating each other and low-key destroying each other’s lives in all in a quest for power but seriously, some Hufflepuffs are in a totally different league, I mean they have this reputation for being all comfy and cute and lovely but God, you see that girl? Lil… Lily? Lilia? I don’t know, well, anyway, this bitch…’

‘Oh! He’s finally alone!’ Hermione gasped, slapping Draco on the arm and motioning.

‘Oh, sorry, for a second I thought something wasn’t all about you, my mistake,’ Draco grumbled. He eyed Remus from afar. ‘You going over?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, you didn’t just interrupt my story for nothing, Granger. And seriously, it was a top-notch story. Solid gold gossip. The dirtiest dirt you can get on someone.’

She ignored him. 

‘Go on.’

She nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Okay. I’m going over.’

‘Good girl. I’m gonna go curse all the food.’

Hermione decided to ignore that last bit and began to approach her professor, or soon to be ex-professor. Already her ex.

He had his back turned, apparently appreciating the red sky settling over the horizon, the sun just a warm yellow semi-circle tucked away behind the rolling hills. She didn’t bother tapping him on the shoulder or clearing her throat or saying hello – she didn’t need to. She knew he’d sense her presence before she was even close enough to greet him. 

She stood at his side, both not looking each other, instead staring out at the beautiful psychedelic skies.

Eventually, Remus broke the silence.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

‘Nor did I,’ Hermione said in a similar tone. She pursed her lips. ‘Last minute decision, I guess.’

Remus nodded. 

‘Is tomorrow for definite?’ 

‘You mean, my leaving?’

‘What else?’

‘Yes.’

‘It is definite?’

‘I am definitely leaving.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay.’

Silence. 

Remus wet his lips and spoke again. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine.’

‘No, really.’

‘I’m fine, Remus,’ Hermione repeated, somewhat irritably.

‘Fine never means fine, though,’ he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. ‘It means… well, not fine. Nobody ever says ‘fine’ and actually means they’re well and content.’

‘Okay. I’m well and content.’

A pause. 

‘Okay. Glad to hear it,’ Remus said, sounding unconvinced.

‘What?’ she snapped, finally facing him.

‘What?’

‘You don’t believe I’m doing well without you?’

Remus’s eyes momentarily widened and he scanned the people around him. Nobody was listening but he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice into a hushed tone.

‘What gave you that idea?’

‘Just… your body language. You seem… smug.’

‘I’m not – I’m not smug, Hermione. And you know me well enough to know that’s bullshit,’ he whispered, his face twisted into a scowl.

‘Well? How are you, then?’

Remus said nothing for a second. Then, finally, he uttered, ‘fine.’ And he turned back to the ever descending sunset.

Hermione studied him. ‘Does fine… mean… not fine?’

‘What do you think?’

‘So… do you… miss me, or?’

Remus’s whole body shivered as though a chill had ran down his spine. ‘Of course I do,’ he muttered.

‘I miss you too,’ Hermione said softly, edging a little closer to him.

He shifted away. ‘Hermione, we… ended things as we did for a reason,’ he said, turning his head away to hide his face. 

‘You ended things. I had very little part to play.’

‘I’m not going to argue about this, Hermione. Did you want to say something?’ he snapped.

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and turned her gaze from the streaky hot pink sky to the dirt on the ground.

‘I just… wanted to say goodbye. I don’t… want us to end on bad terms.’

Remus bit his lip.

‘Thank you, Hermione. I want to remain, er… friends, with you. I think, after some time and some distance apart…’

Friends? Hermione could have been sick or punched him in the face or both.

‘And I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. And I’m sorry for everything between us, in fact…’

‘Don’t apologise. I can’t remember a time of my life where I’ve been so happy,’ Hermione mused.

‘That makes the two of us,’ Remus said, smiling a little. He glanced out at the crowd, and, turning to Hermione, decided that a little attention was nothing to be worried about and quickly embraced her. Hermione could have cried. The smell of him again, the unique way he felt, the way their bodies fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. This had been a bad idea, and such a good one. She missed him more than ever but, for a split second, she felt happy again.

He pulled back, a bit blushed, and Hermione more so, and they both stared out at the sun again.

‘So, um, where are you heading to first…?’ she stammered.

‘Uh…’

‘Oh, I mean, after you’ve stopped at the cottage or Grimmauld or whatever.’

‘I, um…’

‘Are you alright?’

Remus seemed absent. He was staring out at the sky as if he were confused by it. Then, all of a sudden, the colour drained from his face and his eyes were huge and he was looking desperately towards the castle and back to the sky and then to Hermione and back to the sky again.

‘What? Remus, what?’ Hermione said, following his gaze but seeing nothing.

‘Hermione – get – get to the castle,’ he stuttered.

‘Eh?’

‘Hermione!’ He shouted. That turned a few heads. She looked around but he had grasped her firmly by the shoulders, his nails digging sharply through her clothes and into her skin like miniature daggers. 

‘Get – inside!’ he growled. 

And before she knew it she was staggering towards the castle with no idea why, and Remus was screaming at everyone to get indoors.

Most people stood where they were looking bemused, a couple people laughing, thinking it was all some marvellous joke. And then a great thunderous pounding crashed into the invisible force field that surrounded Hogwarts and illuminated the dome-like bubble that imperceptibly protected them. It bit into the force field and three more followed in quick succession, great balls of fiery light like meteorites falling from the sky. Hermione stared up as she was running, squeezing through crowds, and saw the icy blue shield begin to crack like glass above her.

Neon bursts of light were rising from points in the crowd and shooting upwards as though to glue the shield back together – Hermione spotted Flitwick as one of the spell casters, McGonagall as another. She tore through the crowd into the castle and wondered, once she breached the old wooden doors, if she was even any safer. 

What was happening? Where was Remus? What was she to do now? Where were her friends? She tossed and turned and danced on her toes and was thrown about like a ping pong ball by swarms of massive seventh-form boys shoving past her in attempt to attain their own safety. She realised she’d been gripping her wand as an instinctual response but didn’t know any spell that would help. She was the shortest and the smallest and the skinniest and was caught up in a crowd of hundreds of students all oblivious to her presence and quite happy to stampede straight over her. She couldn’t see anything, recognise anyone, and she wasn’t even precisely sure where in the castle she actually was. 

And then, someone had grasped her arm and was forcibly dragging her away.

His back was turned but that black mop of dark hair was unmistakable. Snape was tearing her away from the swarms of students and taking her to somewhere for some reason.

And then, as though she were weightless, he effortlessly pushed her into the already-ascending golden staircase that led to Dumbledore’s office and wordlessly turned away, still at the same haste of step.

She stumbled into the headmaster’s office, shaking, on the verge of tears. And then more arms were around her. Draco’s. She threw her face into his neck and silently sobbed.

‘Miss Granger, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down,’ a calm voice said, and she looked up and saw Dumbledore at the corner of his office, bent over some object she couldn’t see.

‘Wha – c-calm – calm down? I’ll – I’ll bloody calm down when I kn-know what’s going on!’

‘We’re getting out of here,’ Draco said. She looked at his face and he was even paler than usual and his eyes were fixed on the door.

‘What?’

‘We’re waiting for others to hurry the fuck up so we can leave.’

‘Language, Master Malfoy,’ Dumbledore said softly.

‘Who? Harry?’

‘All your gang. Come on, come on…’ Draco started to move around on his feet and jump up and down, staring pleadingly at the door.

‘Draco, I assure you, you have no reason to be anxious, we have plenty of time…’

‘Minutes, actually, minutes, probably seconds, I know what forces they have, you know, I’ve see them, and if they’ve caught you off guard, which they seem to have done,’ Draco shot a filthy stare at the headmaster, ‘we’re royally fucked. Oops, sorry. Fudged.’

There was a slight commotion at the door and Draco and Hermione looked over at the entrance where Ginny tumbled out, flushed and wide-eyed.

‘Ah, Miss Weasley. Please join the others, please.’

‘What?’ she gasped.

‘COME HERE!’ Draco shouted, and Ginny blinked and almost sprinted to Hermione’s side.

‘What’s going on?’ she breathed.

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione said.

‘Look, geniuses, we’re being attacked, don’t you realise? This is war, now, we’re dead if Potter and co don’t hurry up and get found soon because we’re not allowed to escape without being escorted by His Highness,’ Draco ranted. He stared at the door and shouted again. ‘Where the HELL are they?’

As if Draco had scared the universe into obedience the staircase revealed four more figured all uncomfortably squished on the platform. Ron, Harry, Snape, and Remus.

As Ron and Harry demanded answers, Snape remained relatively cool as he pushed them towards the other three and barked at them to stay, while Remus turned his gaze from Hermione to Dumbledore and to the door behind him, where it remained, as though keeping watch.

‘Do you have it?’ Snape asked.

‘Of course.’

‘And it’s ready?’

‘As of just now,’ Dumbledore said.

‘Shall I go?’

‘For the time being. Take Remus, of course. You know what to do. Make sure you take it back with you. Come back as soon as you can. We still have a whole castle to evacuate.’

Snape nodded curtly, took whatever Dumbledore had in his hand, and barked at the group to stand in a circle and hold hands. Hermione and Draco’s hands found each other instantly. Ron was quick to insert himself between Harry and Ginny – Ginny visibly squirmed as she was forced to link hands with Snape. Draco delicately placed a reluctant hand in Harry’s, and Remus took Hermione’s hand in one and closed the circle with Snape. Snape muttered a few words and, just as a great thunderous crack fell upon the castle and shook the earth beneath them, a terrible light blinded them, a whirlwind swept them up like specks of dust and they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't begin to apologise for how long this has taken, I really hope you guys enjoy it and can forgive my absence, thank you so much for the continued support as always, I've already written half the next chapter so it should be up a lot sooner than I've been updating lately. xxx


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